wounded

wounded Aug 2013

you ask me again if i love myself
i answer only that i know i should
if you already know why isn’t it so
that one i’ve never yet understood

so what’s your plan until you can
what exactly are you going to do
i’m not sure, but this might work
perhaps i can learn by loving you

wounded Aug 2013

body bag //

there is no one to anticipate
the joke with by making out
together to the punch line as
it becomes the long goodbye

no one willing to participate
in a conversation about what
kind of tears those are to get
caught in a lover’s body bag

wounded Aug 2013

lonely dream //

homeless beggar orphan child
belonging nowhere and to no one
damaged goods bent and broken
hidden scars too dark to see
and yet their pain is all i feel
almost made it once or twice
first runner up a thousand times
remaining a ****** bridesmaid still
beaten bloodied and long retired
my heart heavy but not quite numb
seeking a light within the darkness
questioning only if and when
this lonely dream will ever end

wounded Aug 2013

helpless //

i want to capture your pain in a jar
all of it, keep it locked up
like some exotic animal
that must be admired from afar

keep it next to my bed
and late at night when i can’t sleep
press the glass against the side of my cheek
imaging it, my pain instead

but sadly it isn’t that simple
for as hard as i do try
to alleviate your pain
it seems, i make barely a ripple

wounded Aug 2013

life grown //

i’m eight and pretending
heaven still exists and
refusing to think that
hell is being defined
right outside
my bedroom door
as a vase breaks
just like a marriage,
as a scream blooms
just like a bruise.

i am eighteen
and kneeling in the shrapnel
of too many shattered dreams
hands clasped and knee caps red,
just trying to convince myself
that god doesn’t have to be
someone else
that flowers never fly
but somehow, they still grow enough
to always try

wounded Aug 2013

little bird //

a little bird sang to me
i paused to hear his song

it seemed he had not a care
i couldn’t stay for long

i would love to be so free
to sing my song all day

i long to be a little bird
and simply fly away

high above the sadness
effortless on the wind

just one small part of it all
a freedom without end

my wings are oh so fragile
i’ve never dared to try

i yearn to ask that little bird
can you teach me how to fly

i fear he’s already gone
will he return tomorrow

still afraid to soar or sing
much to my everlasting sorrow

wounded Aug 2013

eternity //

desperate young guns and wannabe nuns
clever, cunning, running for their very lives
ever wracked with doubt, there’s no way out
no one wins and in the end no one survives

little lambs lost, prophets sleep with profiteers
to our unknown unseen gods we blindly pray
it’s time to choose, when you snooze you lose
can we not find a more sublime game to play

society’s tools, writing rules followed by fools
criticize and cry, our sighs but a silent scream
beneath empty skies, all fall down for little lies
please play if you must, but i choose to dream

— The End —