As of it were my own flesh,
I am disgusted with the taste in my mouth and the smells in my nose.
Too long have I been a victim,
Of all tricks played by the Jester of good intention.
Am I not the same decaying matter as every other dying organism.
Or am I the white light,
The last thing seen by thine enemies on the path to the River Styx.
Pushing to make all things right,
Trying so hard to clear my name.
Slap boxing with the Devil,
With Angels on my right and left I can only step away without facing fears.
Or should I move to my side and bump God's children causing further damage to my soul.
Maybe I will stay here and try to fight back and make those who have punished me shamed.
***
29 April 2007 -tLW-
YOU ARE READING
After, Life
PoetryAn assortment of poetry during a breakup and after hospitilization. Written by me, age 20. During 2007. Revised and titled. 21 January 2016. The Lone Wolf -tLW-
