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I reminisce as I expire
Of days of glory, of days of ire

Of wasted time, of lazy days
Of life events that shaped my ways

Of lavish *** and time well spent
Of lonely days and times I've wept

Of decisions made and paths I've walked
Of victories, losses, and what they've wrought

Of those I've slighted, of those I've loved
Of those I didn't but should've hugged

And of my body,
... grown weak and ill

(It's coming now, I feel the chill)

Of things forever incomplete

(Quiet now, it's time to sleep)

Of my mother, of my friends

(Hush now child, embrace the end)

Of things I won't and never will

Hoping my life was one fulfilled.

Sept / Oct/ Nov 2019
Mark Edwards Jr Oct 2018
At wits' end,
he overextends,
as time was running low.
Yet his mind devised,
through blood-shot eyes,
a way to end his woes.

A chance, perhaps,
by happenstance,
to finally take control.
On a sliver of hope,
while dreams eloped,
an endeavor to mend his soul.

As the stars aligned,
the gods divined,
and the man would have his chance.
Through foreign lands,
devoid of plans,
on a razor's edge he danced.

Now settling in,
the outlook; grim,
... but was it all for naught?
As he looked in the mirror,
t'wasn't man, but his fear -
the demon he had sought.

Now face to face,
his heart; it raced,
but he knew what he must do.
He gazed inside,
and began to cry,
for the demon that he slew.

Though beaten and broken,
within him awoken,
a soul now free of strain.
With time to cleanse,
with himself - make amends,
no longer a life in vain.

And over time,
he's clear of mind,
seeing beauty in his days.
The ironic part,
is within his heart,
he still finds comfort in the Grey.

09/30 - 10/01
Mark Edwards Jr Oct 2018
There's a place that I can go,
A familiar place that no one knows.
A place tucked deep inside my heart.
A place so cold, a place so dark.
A place I go from time to time.
A place I go to watch things die;

& Hope

I know a place where few can cope.

A place your mind will often stray.
A place you go to get away.
A place where screams are all around.
A place where help cannot be found.
A place where all your pain is stored.
A place so strong you can't ignore.

I know a place... you can't escape.

It's all consuming.

Just you wait.

09/25 - 10/01
A note to friends who read this: Please don't be alarmed. I'm doing okay, but I'm trying to capture a place I've been and make it real for those fortunate few that do not understand.
Mark Edwards Jr Dec 2017
A daughter is born, a gift from the heavens, begets new mother in 87'
And though she loved, though she reared, despite the fights, in spite of tears, knowing not, then out of time, a darkness spawned and intertwined.

And over time, the darkness grew, a mother's daughter born anew, and though she tried to intervene, to stop the spread, to cure disease, her fate would deem it wasn't so, yet the hardest part was letting go. Her child lost, though still right there, but reaching out was like grabbing air.

Now lost to us, this shattered mind, a sprouting bud she left behind.
A gift she gave though darkness wrought, such light and joy this bud has brought. And with this light here cometh hope, this bud to nurture, and ways to cope. Our little bud, with flames inside, on streaks of lightning our MaVi rides.

And while her daughter she'll not forget, a mother holds so much regret, for missing signs, for losing reigns, fret not Mãe, you're not to blame. And though I know the pain's still there, an empty void, it isn't fair, and while the answers I have not, my love to give is all I've got. For now, as family, we can only pray, and hope our Amanda finds her way.

For my mother, about my mentally ill sister, Amanda.

Mãe is Portuguese for Mother.

MaVi is short for Maria Victoria. It's my nickname for my niece, Amanda's daughter.
Mark Edwards Jr Oct 2017
A savage fight
A lonely night
Some gin or whiskey will set things right

A running trend
A means to ends
An empty bottle, your oldest friend

You wake up late
Can't walk straight
Reality hits
You can't escape

A broken heart
A head that aches
The realization of past mistakes

Alone again
In need of friends
Let the good times roll
It never ends

Mark Edwards Jr May 2017
Though I know not for what I weep, these words they haunt, disrupting sleep, filling mind with poetic dread, no rest for the wicked, as mind distends.
And as it does, lo darkness rise, as body shudders and spirit dies.
Convulsive twists and mental splits, as tearing eyes meet trembling fists.

With no reprieve for searching eyes, paradox in rhetoric, the mind contrives, drifting off to a busy place; distraction laced in tempered pace.
But what hides behind is my true face, burying shame, with such disgrace, but I keep on, not showing face, where such defiance is commonplace.

And so I drift, as if in dream, I feign content as insides scream, echoing off of distant thoughts, of times of innocence, of times now lost. Of times of youth, of times of joy, so little remains of that young boy. But how I long to bring him back, to smile again, to joke, to laugh. To feel content within my skin, to feel the love of all my kin, to truly feel I'm not alone, to finally enjoy the warmth of home. To mend those things that bring us pain, to never again watch loved ones strain. No longer struggling, being whole again, not always wondering when the pain would end.

Mark Edwards Jr Oct 2015
A kindly heart, a hardened soul - the world has wrought to make it so, and though with love you'd hope to find equivalent hearts of those as kind, you're left with naught 'cause what you'll find is twisted up and shoved inside a decaying soul and broken mind comprised of pain and stalled out time.

Like shards of glass from symphonies, their hearts shriek out their shattered dreams, and while that pain you met with love, your olive branch brought on by dove, they shot it down and watched it die, and with that stick they drew a line, dividing ground and erecting walls, for a lonely castle with empty halls. Closing gates and closing minds, to the outside world, to the great divines. Leaving words on bated breath, their ringing ears have now gone deaf, the love you sought is now bereft, and the wars you'll wage are all that's left.

And as you sit here looking back, you long for that which to retract, and wonder why you'd even tried, for the love in you has likewise died.

For you I hope this isn't true, but for the rest, it's all we knew, yet clinging still to fleeting hope, while knowing dread is all she wrote. Like ash to ash turn dust to dust, my heart of hearts is likewise crushed, and in the end I can only cry, as I lay here bleeding... waiting simply, to die.


Edit: 10/01/2018
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