I have a secret.
Something even I do not want to know.
I hide deadly darkness. A rage.
This beast that sits in my lungs and claws its way up my throat.
It sets itself free without my permission and says things I never wanted to say.
Or hear.
Things about myself
and others.
It knows which words will hurt me the most.
Which secrets will work best to scar my failing heart.
This treacherous heart.
Beating at a speed that aches, while it fails to love.
I keep my loved ones close and, like an enemy, I keep my heart closer.
My fingers cling to this monstrous heart as it lunges for what I care for
with snapping jaws and bared fangs, it foams at the mouth
ravenous and drooling. It fights hardest to take what I love.
It does not fight to keep me alive.
You see, I am fighting myself in a self-destructive battle.
If my instincts win, I will have nothing left to care about.
If love wins, I will have torn myself apart to keep it. Again.
There is a furious nature within me.
It is strong, but most of the time, I am stronger
Meaner, scarier
I can love harder than my organs can hate.
I can forgive faster than my mouth can speak, but my mind,
She does not forget.
The anger lives in my brain like a snake coiled in the shadows.
It hides its ugly face until it is ready to strike
It likes to drag out everything I have ever forgiven
It likes to pretend that I cannot actually forgive
but here it is:
I forgive my father for his demons, and for his addictions.
I forgive my middle sister for what she cannot help.
I forgive the youngest for what she did not stop. For her voice and her anger.
There is so much to forgive.
I forgive Sonia for her judgments.
I forgive the reformed for what they cannot forgive themselves for.
I forgive my mother for anything she regrets.
I forgive myself for the darkness within me.
And as long as I fight the darkness, and apologize for what it said,
I will stay forgiven.
Not because I deserve forgiveness,
but because someone has to take the first step.
I have to believe that I can be forgiven before I let others forgive me.
YOU ARE READING
Zoning out at Work Vibes
PoetrySometimes at work, the idea for a story or poem pops into my head. No one said I should write them down, but I've decided to try anyway. Maybe you will think it is awful, but I already love this. About halfway through, I begin to mix in some of my o...