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What balm is there
in being right?
Especially rightness,
righteousness
grounded in bitterness--
are you joining me in my misery?

I do not want
my happiness to come
at the expense of yours--
as if there were some
limited supply of it;
some small cupful--
snatching at the drops
that fall.

If I want compassion+mercy
extended to me
then I **** well better
extend it to others.

And so I go forward,
waving olive branches.

Will you grasp back?
This is a reflection on the impact of my mother's alcoholism on my life.  But it also seems appropriate for our current circumstances.
Another Poet Aug 2015
It's dark in here, pretty lonely too
I've been hurt by them, and I cry to you

To my weary knees I fall
Raise my hands, to you I call.
Forgive me Father for what I have done
For I have killed your only son

And your consuming love like a tempest in me
Sets my palms convulsing
Blesses me with repose and piety
That I pray will forever remain.

But as my silver lining brightens with the sun,
My warmth slowly fades as to the world I return

It's like I have this disease, this Unkind addiction
To almost every little thing, that procrastinates my devotion

Then slowly it fades
The voice of the angels as they pray
A cold void in my soul
Growing as I walk away

Yes it's dark in here, pretty lonely too
When I'm hurting again, I'll come back to you.
Edgar E Tobias Aug 2015
I feel estranged every now and then.
I been trying for months to explain, my lack of, conviction.
Half-hearted attempts to force something pleasing.
The only thing I'm sure of these days
Is that I'm not sure about much of anything.

What was meant to last eternity
A star's sparkling mystery, always shrouded in dark
Instead it all came crashing down in the beauty of a shooting star
Wishes are no different than secrets in this sense
We all have them, and tell no one
Keep them tucked underneath our pain
A journal entry's page kept safe through memory

I want to be the Nothing's you whisper
In the ear of your lover
To dance along the strings of your heart
A romantic arrhythmia played in perfect time
Pausing for a brief moment
Of enthralled dyspnea

Some might call it foolish, but they are right...
For all the wrong reasons.
To be brave, you must be a fool
Looking at your fate with sunken eyes, stoic
Yet, you push forward, no this is not an escape
This is acceptance in its purest form
The difference between courage and a coward is distraction and denial
Why run from the inevitable?

I'm not inviting him in, but I will acknowledge the existence.
Trying to form any cohesive line of thought is getting more and more difficult each passing day as the line between reality, dream, imagination, and memory become exponentially blurred with each passing night. Psychosis' cold hand is creeping in... But to experience it sober? Now that is a novelty I've yet to experience... I think? I may have had a dream about it. I could have made it up too... Does a beautiful girl fishing for compliments make her any less physically attractive? No. So, why are so many who are close to me convinced this is some game I'm playing? They choose to read my journals I hide. They know nothing of this site or this alias. Yet, their simple conclusions bore me to the point of not even having the strength to say, well... anything at all. Silence is golden. I am King Midas!

— The End —