The Ghosts of my past.

February 8th, 2010-Disgrace

I’m sorry.

That I cannot live up to your expectations.

That your repeated names,

Cannot break my circulations.

I’m never going to be good enough,

So let me extrude,

Your calling me names now.

That are extremely rude.

Your bars are much too high,

For me to ever be able to reach,

You’ll never be proud of the once was, that is me.

I’m stuck so deeply inside of this breach.

Your slam of the door,

Sends me to jump, slightly in the air,

It sends me to my knees,

Where I whisper a silent prayer.

“Get me out of this place,

that I am forever confined.

Send me to a place,

That I can call mine.”