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Feb 2011
Acrid tears have dried upon my soul.
Their tracks painfully erode
the partition I hold before myself
and the world I need escape.

Thin as rice paper, are my emotions.
A false step rips the calm I hold.
Displacing my hopes of normalcy,
one step closer to losing my precarious balance.

Which, in and of itself, is a lie.
As I slip from one side to the other.
The Pendulum never stops its movement,
never giving rest to my anger and fear.

I am no more who I was,
when I was a person, whole.
Pain has shaped and molded my life,
while usefulness died under its weight.

Forgiveness, I am not ready to pour,
as I drink from the well of bitter remorse.
Had not the Corporate Viper bitten,
I might not be filled with the fear of snakes.

Lies told.Β Β Lies held.Β Β Lies that burn
behind my eyes, scald my outlook on life.
Leaving a scar that I always see,
when I look at myself and what has been stolen
Paula Swanson
Written by
Paula Swanson
855
   Marco Jimenez
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