Long long ago
In the land of dreams
I came upon a figure
Who said to me
I know not what you seek,
But I know what you dream.
And in my hands
I hold
A sword and a pen
Both dangerous tools
Meant to achieve.
Both dangerous tools
Made to bleed.
Both dangerous tools
Such dangerous tools.
Dangerous tools
For reaching dreams.
So choose wisely child
For you need only one
To find the path
That calls to your blood.
So with a nod of my head
And the stretch of a limb
I suddenly held
The deadliest of tools
Within my grip.
And with a silent heart
And screeching mind
I closed my eyes
And bled.
A blue chair
Pink crocs
A somewhat average dark dot
Floating in an unfamiliar sea
Of varied white.
I bled.
Two tear streaked faces
Reflecting each other
One of the past
Reflecting the future
One of the future
Reflecting the past
Both stuck in the present
Of the now
of then
And the expectation
Of the unknown
inevitable
later.
I bled.
A seed of knowledge
With steady growth
Met with the faintest steel kiss
Just a brush of the lips
So faint
Just a print
Barely there.
Yes
barely there.
Yet the fear
The fear was
very there.
Yes
Very there.
I bled.
The cacophony of voices
That tore through the wall
Between my heart
My mind
My body
My all
Flooding my world
With all my ugly thoughts
My deepest wishes
My deepest fears
My deepest,darkest secrets
And a constant
Knock knock!
On my sanity
That seemed to never go away...
With the same little voice yelling...
"Special delivery!Open up!"
"Go away."
"I don't want 'em."
But every single time
it's already too late...
"Honey!We're home!"
Then the same whispers in my ear....
"And we don't come with consent or a return policy-Dear."
I bled.
A sun shunned room
Filled with so many toys
Meant to pacify
Little hearts
to satisfy
Little eyes
to fortify
Little dreams
To maintain the innocence
Thought to be
in all little children
Like me.
How sweet.
How trivial.
Insignificant.
Nugatory.
Silly and naive.
So full of pretense.
Compared to the
small taste of home
I wore like a lifeline
about my wrist.
I bled.
And I bled...
And I bled...
And I bled...
And still I bleed.
Forever I bled.
Forever I bleed.
Forever I'm bleeding,
Forever I bled.
Forever always bleeding,
Forever always bled.
I bled,
I'm bleeding,
Always bled,
Always bleeding,
And forever and always wondering:
What if I had chosen the sword?
YOU ARE READING
Just Call Me Secret
PoezjaThey say that I'm a mystery,but I'm just Secret-I'm just me. Just synchronize your mind to me. Oh,and don't worry about my real name-just call me Secret.It may be an alias,but it's just as real as my birth name. Welcome to the beautiful hot mess tha...
