It's time to go out into the world with no jumper to shield me,
Only my initiative to clean me.
My soul can never be cleansed,
But I'll pick up the pieces and hold my head.
I'll never surrender to the forces of the deep blue,
For those around me wish to see me stand another day!
Those who know my face and have seen the false glint in my eyes shall never know the full picture of who I am,
my shelf is filled with bottles of tears and screams,
of anger and angst,
of whaling and crying,
I rust, but I paint over it.
In the quiet night, I intervene.
Her complex mind a brick wall to my words,
In one ear and out the other,
The whispers of her past a haunting trance,
In the depths of her soul,
Wounds unhealed and unclean.
I say to unlock the door and set her free,
My attempts squandered by conditioning.
Conditioned to bury, and not to squeal.
In her eyes, a glimpse to the mental hell she endures daily.
I stand on the sidelines weak and wary,
I am useless to her,
I can do little.
My words refused by her,
Yet she continues to plea.
Refusing counsel,
She stands alone.
A fortress built by a chained heart,
I lay frosted,
Cold,
Unmoving,
Damaged.
She stands as a constant annoyance to me,
It's so common,
Friday to Sunday.
The gap has grown over the six years,
The alcohol was a constant.
Her only way of loosening the pain.
I hear her cry as I sit at my desk,
I live a dilemma.
No light ever seems to enter her world.
My feeling of inadequacy grows ever so slightly.
I am engulfed in a moment of frustration,
Annoyed by her pathetic cries.
She refuses to help herself,
Should I even try?
Is it even worth batting an eye?
Perhaps we are both incompetent.
I am a cold-hearted individual to her,
I have learned to push her away so it ends quickly,
So her troubles flee my world quickly.
What should I do?
I have tried so much with negligible progress.
I have given up thus far.
She whines,
She cries,
She refuses everything,
She is destined to be behind lock and key.
I know those who harmed her,
I know their residency.
I wish I could take justice into my own hands,
"And strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger,"
Onto those who dare permanently scare my lovely mothers soul.
I'd do it with glee..
YOU ARE READING
Canvas of the Soul
PoetryI've decided that I would write a book with all the poetry I've written, mainly for fun and so that I can talk to people about my work, improve, and enjoy it for the masterful assortment it is. I'm going to be constantly adding to this, since it's...
