The awkward minds in me
They battle every day
Spears encircle brutal scars
Blades like swords that made them
Bats from city streets
Hounds that hunt the hearts of heroes
But I am not alone
These walls, they're deep
These awkward minds, they comfort me
Comfort me you claim, exclaim
Your kindness is a curse and your eyes
Eyes that swing blades, scathe the walls
Walls I built long ago save me
Safe from some honorable hero
Some bastard with a sword
The awkward minds in me
Quietly they bicker, banter
Engage in fisticuffs
Some are kind, charming
Some are cruel, quiet
Whatever you see in me
I hope it's the me I want to be
But these awkward minds in me
They disagree, can't let me be
Be the me I know I can be
They make me wonder,
Wish after a me that could be better.
I hate the awkward minds in me
Hate that I cannot love,
Love that I cannot hate
How many honorable heroes,
How many bastards with swords
All turned away, cooly declined
See, they all look the same,
How do you know which is which?
Who can you trust when you cannot trust yourself?
(22 April 2015)
YOU ARE READING
An Aged, Bitter Collection of Poetry, Prose, & Papers
PoetryThere once was a sad girl, not that long ago, in a kingdom not so far away. Perhaps a glance into her somber scribbles might help you on your quest to scribble for yourself.
