I'm getting older,
I feel it in my soul.
A soul once believed, to already be old.

Maybe due to injuries,
Taken to my skull,
Do ancient images, in my thoughts, go cold.

It's not exactly,
Like those images are gone.
Not entirely,
Have they been lost.

Just painted right over,
With a common White Out...
At a severe,
And high of a cost.

Numerous people,
Have numerous ideas,
Should the devil man actually exist.

And as to the greatest of dangers,
The greatest of threats,
That this evil, has placed in our midst.

Lately an idea,
Has whispered to me,
Inventing the word Victim...

And letting us do with it, whatever we wish.

There once was a ray,
Of pure heaven sent light.
Speeding through the Galaxy,
With all of it's might.

Nothing in creation,
Could approach it's self made apex,
Still casual observers simplified it,
Through jealousy's self-imposed vex.

"If you've seen one,
You've surely seen them all.
Same with that blasted light,
Even if a star child it is called."

No one seems to consider,
As it happily dances.
That each glimmer it shines,
Speeds deadly dimmings advances.

Yet shine, it will continue,
As that's what it's birth was for.

Sparkling until finally fading.

Leaving those observers with shivering thoughts...

"I should have loved the warmth more..."

Long has it been,
Since I've picked up the ink.
And drained, all of my thoughts away.

I've missed the flow of words,
The unbridled free form vent,
Returning emotions, gone too long astray.

Ready?  I think I'm not,
But a dabbler I've always been.
And dabbling, is often my favorite form of play.

So though it's been a while,
playfully I try to write.
And hopefully, I come back, another day.

We fought,
Like beasts,
Not knowing how to speak.

It escalated,
Quickly,
That day.

Physical confrontation,
Little as I was,
I bit him,
With all of my might.

He shrieked in pain,
Rebounded with rage.
Against a brick wall,
My brother bashed my head.

Over and over,
Till I was limp.
By six years old,
I fully understood "dead".

I don't recall much,
Vision came and went.
Sounds,
Fled from my ears.

Though I couldn't see my mother,
Nor could I hear her cry.
I simply somehow...
Still felt her tears.

Into the bathroom,
She placed me in the bathtub.
Like trying to wash away,
The near fatal sight.

But as everything faded,
From the bathroom that night.
A strange man,
Appeared to my right.

Above me,
He looked down.
With such sadness I've not known.
And a decision,
Wilfully came to my mind.

Stick around,
Carry on.
Live and proceed.
Or die,
And let it's peace,
Be a moment so kind.

And as that decision,
Came to my thoughts.
I looked,
Upon this strange man.

Hovering in the bathroom,
His presence, familiar.
Like myself,
But aged, and knowing a plan.

"Not yet...
There's still something you must do."

And that's the end of that memory.

It haunts me,
But subtle.
In quizzical ways.

I don't know,
Exactly what I saw.

But tonight,
I sit thinking,
Those sad words said so certainly.
Said, with a heart reaching out to me.

It's been far to long,
Since I sat and wondered...

"Did I really turn out,
To be,
who I really wanted,
to be?"

And have I finally done it,
By age 40.
Whatever I've been meant to do.
When, can I finish,
This absurdity?

My heart hurts,
Like pierced by a red hot thorn.
And it's contents drain.

I know these feelings are fleeting,
But the searing pain,
Feels like it's all of me that will remain.

And all I can think,
Is nothing.

Don't take word's,
Like vulnerable,
And honest

As though they were made,
Out of ash.

The tears that you shed,
With two words such as this,
Are moist reminders,
Fallen, right from Hopes lash.

Instead be fearless,
But not the angry kind.
And don't,
Be fearless alone.

But instead,
Be the fearless,
That when you look in their eye,
Forever, you know that you're home.

Be all the crazy,
Weird that you can.
Even if it's a little bit gross.

Because when they love you,
And true trust you both share,
You have, what you've always needed most.

Let your insecurities,
Wash away with spoken word.
But words, of trust,
That squash, all form of doubt.

And be sure every syllable,
Every spoken vowel,
Exudes,
The faith you're both about.

Take this advice,
From one who's lost much to fear,
And grieves,
Filled by regret.

For if I had been braver,
If I'd trusted her more.
My insecurities,
Wouldn't, have been my own death.