Trying to shake the rust off with this one.
Here it goes…
From the cracked earth came a bloom of light. Black to red. Crows and butterflies in a midnight dance. Wrapped in fear, embraced by courage.
I am drowning. Drowning, drowning in front of everyone and no one sees it.
I have been sinking. Sinking for years and years and they all ignore it. I wonder if I let go all the way this time, who breathes the sigh of relief ? Me, them or all of us?
Forgive me for the outbursts. When asked, “what’s wrong?” I don’t believe there’s a drop of sincerity in that question because when trying to explain I get a cold “You’re not the only one”. So, sorry my conditioned response “it doesn’t matter”, doesn’t satisfy your fragile ego. Let your ego bask in the glory of knowing, you are one reason why.
I am a ghost of the phantom, of the shell of the person I used to be. Even then that person was only ever half awake.
So now here I am, everything, but dead. A clapboard zombie if you will. Full of dark and hollow emotion because I can see how much I am a burden to all. Before you cry out how untrue that statment is, please remember your actions have always spoke louder and clearer than resigned “of course nots”.
The self loathing I carry will always be greater than the burden you think I lay upon you.
I don’t believe in god, but I’ve prayed to god. This cruel humor he has, making me the butt of all his jokes. Now I pray every night for peace, to not see the light of the next day, because I have learnt I cannot change the fundamental truth of who I am.
Lets be honest who I am isn’t good enough for you or me.
Hey followers and first time readers!
Which of my poems do you think would make a good submission?
Or what topic(s) do you think I should write about?
Leave suggestions in the comments.
Crawling, falling, sinking below she goes. Scratching, clawing the surface, a fighter she is. Words unheard in the echos of others. Dodging the shadows of demons she bares. Slipping through cracks unsee. Running through circles of burning bridges. Shaken from the madness of it all. The burns of judgment scar phanton memories. They can’t be forgotten nor will they heal.