The Living Broken (Poetry)

Fear of One's Self

Your stormy face upon grey clouds of sound and light,
emit your life and reflects upon your hurt.

Your dry eyes but wet face makes the unknown think,
of what really lies under the sea bed.

Your twitching smile itching to bite, dances on your face like a sillhouette.

Your pale skin dark as night skies, make fear glisten with prickling feels up our spines.

Your menacing laugh and giggle, make not babies love and smile but make cry and screams.

You act like the world sees you.
In true fact you remain unseen.
You remain black as dark on days.
You remain transparent pure on nights.

You think yourself to be feared.
You think yourself to be frightening. You think yourself to be a monster, but in true fact you hide away like a coward.

Under beds you go,
into closets you close,
not a sound but the clammoring of branches on windows,
only a sound from your oafy footsteps.

You dance your way,
you dance and dance but what people say is not for you to fray.

For you are, the one and only man who is known.
For hiding under beds and into closed closets.
You are the boogie man, laughed at and hated.
Not for yourself but for your ways.

Is this a life you chose? Is this a life you want? Is this the life you need?
No one can answer that but the boogie man, himself.
And that is you.