The demons are after me,
Endeavouring to dwindle all my super powers
Enshrined in my soul.
But I,
I reconcile fragmented pinions
Powered with world of words, dreams,love and hope,
Now no malign souls,
Aren't after me,
As I have turned myself into a fire,
My pinions into a universe,
And my soul,
A rebel.

You are never
clear with me
about
What it is you want.
I always have to guess.
Is this just a game to you?
Is my heart a play thing;
somewhere for you to make a mess?
Or
maybe it's a dream
meaning
It's all made up
And I should wake up.

I want to
Give you
All
Of me.
But I gotta know
You want me
I
Gotta know you
Need me
Know that
You can complete me.

I'm ready to become
Whole again

tired of


Splitting


Up
;

tired of

trying

  To

   Piece

    Back

Bits of my soul,
Fragments
S h a t t e r e d by senselessness.

blacked in sin.

I need my peace back.
I don't like to ask
But
I hate to guess
I'm wondering -
Can you be that?

did i lose it already ?
this fragile notion
piercing the fog
that hovers my ocean ?

i must place it
somewhere safe
so i may remember
the fragment
if not the face

perhaps this snippet
of waste?
     no, there is
not left a whit of space

Here is the vessel,
a white bleached and
prepared remnant
of an elm or a spruce        
that once
stood
         Tall
and shaded the sun
from exhausted lost
explorers—

cut stripped and
diced
to provide
               for Me
this small
space,

so i may forget...

"memory paper"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved