-- Backed Away --
I stood and said what you questioned.
I hoped to fill the void
that was your confusion.
You listened,
or seemed to hear at least.
When I was finished;
you backed away.
A smile upon your lips;
fear clutching your heart.
You heard what I said,
but never listened to the words.
You backed silently away,
and said no more.
You tried to smile
like an understanding was reached.
You made light,
so the reach had failed.
You silently left,
and I stood forced to wonder.
Was the question you asked
really in need of the answer I gave it.
You backed away;
a smile upon your lips,
fear clutching your heart.
You heard what I said,
but never listened to the words.
You backed silently away,
and said no more.
I said nothing as you stalked away.
Nothing passing between;
nothing left to be seen.
-- Doubt Tangles --
Fairy tales of yesterday;
playing the mind as one is crushed by the real.
Fresh tears descend;
sorrows fall like rain.
Watering the savage garden;
wetting the seeds of doubt,
planted in your mind.
Letting the vines grow and tangle;
trapped like a fly in a spiders web.
Wishing for all you had to return;
mourning the mess you encased yourself within.
The vines entangle more;
squeezing tighter they snarl about you.
Until you cease to mourn what you were,
and all that you had.
They die once you know who you really are,
and all that you have.
-- Misery --
Thru the wind;
into the rain.
I wandered battered and bruised.
I stumbled along;
covered with my mud.
It was not pure earth,
but laced with crimson sorrows.
It smelled of the stench of my misery's tears.
I have become the gloomy days I so despise.
I reach to the sky,
and silently call for help.
For a friend;
for the thousandth man,
but never a touch befalls my icy palm.
-- Silent Tear --
Golden maned woman,
her eyes filled with sorrow.
A wilting rose in her hand.
One arm wrapped around her waist.
Blocking out the sadness or holding it in?
Only she knows.
She weeps silent tears,
she cries a silent song.
Holding her sorrows in or blocking them out?
Only she knows.
She holds her head low.
Carrying her heart in her hand
beside the rose,
it is pierced by the thorns.
Blood runs in rivers,
like her tears they both fall.
She trembles and clings tighter to herself.
Holding in her sorrows or keeping them out?
Only she knows,
and she will never tell.
--Winter’s rose--
In Winter's silence I cast myself out.
Lost in madness I sit alone;
knees held near my chest.
A lonely hug,
for a solitary me.
Held in my hands shines the winter's rose.
Its' warm glow melts the tears on my skin.
I rise and meander once more.
I stumble through the forest;
lost in my sorrow,
and driven by my hate.
The winters' rose reflects,
a kaleidoscope of colors at times.
Reminding me of the happiness,
and emotions I once had.
The wind whips cruelly at my tangled locks,
as I stumble on.
My bare feet froze.
My scared hands cold;
I collapse to die,
to fall into that deep winter slumber.
Sleep of sleeps,
that rebirths the trees in the spring.
My tears fall no more.
I gaze up through sightless eyes;
at the bare branches and the grey sky.
My arms hugging my knees to my chest;
I breathe no more.
--My Abyss--
The
blur,
passed
my eyes.
Raking
of claws;
upon
soft flesh.
Burning
pain
heightened
as I lie,
panting
in the rain.
My
blood lingers
around
my lazy eyes,
as
a breath brings in pain,
and
its release causes more.
The
cold touches like knives,
but
it takes away some pain.
The
night is silent as the rain falls;
silent
I cry to the emptiness around me.
My
voice shouts inside,
but
never gets released.
Nere'
an ear ventures near;
to
where I lay.
Painted
in watercolor red
that
slowly turns gray.
I bought a journal.
It was for happy thoughts;
to this day,
it still remains empty.
Just a parting thought.
I have a piece missing;
the void consumes me slowly.
For a moment I forgot,
but then I still feel it.
That empty space,
breaking me from the inside.
The emptiness in my heart,
churning, and burning.
My permanent wound;
never to heal,
a void I always feel.
Little deaths each passing day.
My glass is empty;
to fill it is futile.
False hope,
faux joy.
It's all a lie
I fill the glass,
and someone empties it for me.
I want to break the glass.
The shards would be nice;
jagged, keen, and fine.
Cracks,
finite breaks.
Pour joys in and it just runs out.
My glass is empty,
but it's truely never been full.
Not really.
The filled cup is just an illusion.
Not everyone is supposed to be happy.
Guess I was tapped.
Marked with an "X".
