Burning pages with ink


All the hate sets fire to me
And burn’s through me so intensely.
Flames run up and down my arms, permanent scars;
All my charm just burns away.
Rip me up and start again.


Smash my fist against the page!
Pen gripped tightly, shatters on impact.
Drag the ink from out of my veins,
To write in blood: “This…is…fact!”
Not this is “4 REAL”, because nothing is.
Time to burn another sun, or waste another wish.


Scratch my nails across the white;
Blood drips only leave vertical lines
And all I think is written ‘down’.
I don’t know how to turn my frown around.


One way, only falling, crawling; breaking open every gift of an egg.
Leave me for dead, upon a mid-summer nights dream, lost to never.
Never to be seen again.


All my words lost in translation;
Even I can’t read back what I have written.
Words like scars imprinted on me,
I recall the spirit of the time.
Still I cannot speak truthfully or freely,
Because you would not understand!  A single thing that I write.
I only write when I am shattered.
Splintered pieces, thoughts remain.
I am searching in a dark world, without a light, looking for answers,
But there is nothing, there is nothing…there is nothing but the pain.


As I continue to waste my life away,
All is grey in this rose tinted garden.
I strike a match and then I say,
This is the end;
All is said.
All is done…
I am through with tryin’.
You were my only true friend.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.