Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2011
For the first time in years, I lay my head upon my own shoulder
and I weeped, with no trigger, with no particular reason
it was not a heavy pour, a light one, almost dead
I closed my eyes and I was completely submersed in a web
of silver wrapping itself around me
and thought that was my own loneliness
I have never felt this alone
I have never felt this one

the thought of this alone gives me fear
to lay there completely at mercy to my own self
to have finally accepted my own truth
one that I have long manipulated a lie
I myself have been a lie

I have chosen to live my life in this manner
constantly restricting myself from love
executing it, and making it small
draining it, causing a famine in energies
suffocating it, and bleeding it merciless
walking away from it with my heart
bleeding barely beating because I have taken it back from
you and you and you
I stay up late at night and think how will I regain that thing
that was once mine, and in a instant I slip through a crack
in my mind, and it is there again my flesh in my hands

I can see myself already in it
and Im crying and screaming at the top of my lungs
and you hold onto me and beg me not to go
and I with blood running down my cheeks struggle to get away
struggle to escape just as much as I want to stay
and I brake things and hurl my body to the ground
I create a hunger that shrieks so loud
and I drown myself in the sound
the queen of desolate is what I should be crowned
you stand there behind me, lingering in the background
yet again you have watched how I make myself drown


I impose my own judgement and wonder if its an incorrect soul
or if I make it a rule upon myself to believe that this is so
my hands are open
my chest is open
my legs are open
my heart
my heart
is open

I hold life like a curtain in front of me
and I take a knife that I made with the barbaric woman within myself
and I cut straight down the middle, with a wordless expression
I want to know what is behind it
I want to touch those things that will make my fingertips burn
I want to come close to things that will make my hair rise
I want to rid of this state of mind
and learn how to become more wise
midnight prague
Written by
midnight prague
665
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems