Poet

Let me laugh at something other than myself.

Teach me again a life not so drowned in doubt.

Legs numb with jellied, weeping pain,

And a brain which sticks and drudges against the sides of my skull,

And it will still not be enough.

I can beg and breathe and pray and weed and still never have enough.

What is it like to know respite and rest from outpouring exhaustion and bleeding stress?

What is enough,

And who decides what it is?

Until I wasn’t looked for anymore,

And all of a sudden this weight lifted from my chest,

And my lungs became hollow craters which once held love,

Life,

And the care to be searched for.

And now that I am curled into the incredulous crevice of this rug,

This dark, wiry, and cruel carpet which swallows me whole,

I know how truly empty it feels to be lost.

And all the times I once cried for being lost mean nothing now,

My rings turning to tarnished pink,

My heart muddling to grey.

My heart muddling to grey,

And I can’t help but remember how vibrant everything used to be.

I can’t help but picture the torture of neon colors and emotions that banged against the cell bars of my skeleton and soul.

I can’t help but let this ocean of terror and regret, remorse and desire to forget grip my breath and choke my chest.

Or unjust,

Or cruel,

Until I had been smothered and suffocated under the reality of us all and it was too late to know otherwise.

I wish I could take it all back,

Let myself live and lay in naïveté,

Believing love is true and just far away,

I’m sorry I’m a fundamental flaw in our Gods green earth; how many people do They make per generation in the name of Goodness? For am I not one of them, or am I NOT one of them.

I am sorry to my God for the pain I cause on Earth, for the sorrow I bring to my fellow man. I am sorry, and dear Lord do I repent for my wrongness.