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Mar 2019
The Scar due for Prep

Have you danced with darkness?
Minus, cliche bobble, pale moonlight?
No balance of step, nor vision of sight?
Have you danced with the darkness’ dastardly devils and devious demons?

Everyday divulging deep bleak colors contrasting societies soot lined shadows,
Showing shades of every face weary or strong that it makes you sick!
Fire in your iron lungs,
Pick! Who to burn next in your wanton web,

You yearn to see them torn and scream,
Sowing secret, sacred, scripts of suffering,
“Help me! I’m sorry friend!”
“Let me hug you, friend, and tend,” you’d pretend,

Even adopting a valued visage of light,
Easier to trap and less of a fight,
You think it makes you strong and gives you might,
You got cocky,

Was is greed that took the lead?
Perhaps phallus fueled foolishness,
An ego built pride where you rather would’ve died then had not tried,
Woe, my mental wars,

For I tried to eat a light,
I tried to eat her sight,
Her soul and absorb her might,
But my bite couldn’t swallow or chew,

Rampantly in anger I battled and battered,
Clinging to fleeing demons,
Bawdily bolting from the luminous light,
Till it was I, alone, in the fight,

Rage in every inch of me,
“Why does she look so calm? Don’t mock me! *******! F-U-U-C-K YOU!”
With fire in my eyes I glared,
Observing, she stared,

Then she asked me a question,
“What is wrong?”
My pride, my ego, my lust, my kingdom of slothful rust cried!
“Nothing!”

Then she gave me a glance,
Suddenly she was talking through my shadowy shields and swords,
To a side I had left, alone, long ago,
“What is wrong?”

Suddenly in silence I saw him,
On his knees, hands in black mist,
Me, no more then six, crying,
I wasn’t ******, or glad, or wrathful or mad,

“I’m sad!” I cried in emotional *****, heart sore,
Out of nowhere tears blitzed my face,
A foul feral weep I’d never heard before,
A symphony of suffering, I sowed galore,

How could I know?
That there was a sad little boy behind this ******?
Such a bitter and sweet gift to bestow,
Off to sleep sweet dancing darkness, it’s time for you to go,

A beginning of a journey for this new found soul,
Minus war of my mental mindscape,
Each step an accomplished goal,
Walking along the shallow banks of a warm peaceful shoal.
Written by
David Hasselblad  24/M/Wisconsin
(24/M/Wisconsin)   
319
 
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