Morning sunshine mourns of an old age
A past time that lurks in the shadows
of his bewildered heart, trapped in a cage
The light sets upon the empty bottles
Darkening the depths of his gaunt less rage
Dripping through the window ceil,
the light glows upon the purple sage
The dust casts the lining of her
As his tears bleed along the page
The past rebuilds itself as if it were
Yesterday

Why do I doubt?
Question my capabilities?
Block.
Build up a wall around myself
Protecting myself
From myself

Doubt that you will accept the scribbles
That I bleed upon my page

I need to let go of you
and all of the pain
that you put me through

I need to throw away
the memories that I hold
of the endless nights
during the month of May

I need to let myself breathe
a lesson I continued to learn
every time I watched you leave

I need to burn
everything I hold
of yours
into the urn

Because you promised
forever
Something
I never want to hear
you say
ever.

I turn to a new page
The blank space
in between the lines
desires
the drip
of the
black
ink,
a symbol
of my
rage.

Monday, September 10

I sit alone in the silent park
Sunshine breathes through the trees
The shadows cast light upon the dark
The darkness I choose not to see

The erie sound of construction lurks
It brings my mind to an ease
The battlefield rounds the destruction
in which society chooses not to see

Wednesday, September 5

The less I believe in him
The more I strengthen him

The more I believe he exists,
he mocks me with his laughter

he lurks deep within
he rules my very actions

I attempt to weaken him
Smaller he becomes

But he just awaits
for his time
to prove
that he
exists

He is
Satan

I close my eyes,
Pretend I am the wind
Weightless, calm, invisible
I feel you around me
Touching me
With your soft, brittle finger tips
You are the wind in which
I hold you
I feel you, you see me
I know you are here
I go numb
To every nerve ending
Because you are here
You are the wind