It had been like a wave, cold and sudden.
Giving no time to get used to it nor to prepare for it.
I felt awake for the first time, in what felt like an eternity.
I could finally see as clear, as if someone had finally cleaned that old glass window.
It was clear as day
Your love had not grown roses, but thorns.
As I grew, I hoped that one day the thorns would be beautiful.
I accepted the pain and the scars they caused, in a foolish though that you would change.
I was naïve, like a young pup's curiosity with fire.
Getting hurt over and over without learning the first time.
But I know better now, never will I see a flower bloom from you.
Perhaps in a distant past, one in which I do not remember, had you had a flower.
A flower that perhaps could have fixed all of your wrongdoings.
Yet, that wasn't it.
With the scissors that I hold in my hands, I think it is time now to cut free.
Free from a love whos poison is killing me.
And although you are my mother, you never grew a rose from your love.
And that is the truth I must accept.
So think of this as a bitter goodbye,
A goodbye that is well needed.
As I snip away at the stems, is it then that I finally get to be free.
YOU ARE READING
The Diaries and Poems Of a Lost Person
PoetryI have by no means to get any growing attention on this. But I have no other way of speaking my emotions. I am locked in my own shell and the cell holds no lock. I hope that with this, I can create a lock and a key. So that I can finally begin to es...
