Poems of Pain and Solitude

the little girl

Dear You,

She has not been kind to us.

But a few words need to be said,

A few drops of our blood spilled

For the sake of honesty

And making truth to deceit the conmen.

For the past,

For what didn't last:

I'm here, with my last hope,

With my last weapon,

The only sword I could wield:

I am a poet,

With only her pen in hand,

And know that that is to me

The deepest blade I could unsheathe

To combat every demon I've ever faced,

To curse every floor I've ever paced,

To walk every path I've ever raced.

Perhaps you thought I'd be something grand,

Well I need you to understand

That I haven't been what you'd thought I'd be.

Life's curvature, taking me on wild rides,

While I was trying to walk straight to happiness.

But nothing has been linear

And I've been tossed around so much

That I've lost sight of the end goal.

I've been losing myself in exchange for blood,

My soul below my vision.

There's a shadow when I run,

And an echo when I scream.

I was a bright fire and a star to admire

But I was burning out.

I know you still live in me,

A flame in the wind.

But I can't find you,

And I can't find who we really are.

What happens when we've grown

To be owned

Solely shaped by their made up identity

Of us? Who they hoped we would be?

The little girl in me

Still lives on her fears,

In the pit in my gut,

She festers in the hole that widens.

She doesn't know what the hell I'm doing

But she continues to believe

Because when you lose all,

Belief is all you have left.

It's perhaps the only thing I haven't lost.

I've lost myelf,

But the little girl is tender to my battered heart,

She tends to the bruises,

And when my anxiety strikes like my worst question,

She answers only with the flame of Faith.