Keeping track of my scars would mean
Missing life and
Never ending calculations of pain
And heartache.
I know this because
This is what I've been doing.
Journaling the pain of every rough touch,
Of every screamed word,
Of every time I was let down
By someone who claims to love me.
That journal is torn apart.
Pages are falling out
Onto the floor
And I believe it may be time to light them on fire to
Burn
Burn
Burn until they become part of the floorboards
And haunt this house for centuries to come
So I know they are not only my demons
But a collective monstrous being
And that makes me feel less alone
But also like I am my own nightmare
But isn't that what all bleeding souls are?
Our own worst enemy?
Our own devil on both shoulders,
Kicking the angel into the dirt,
And taking the reins?
YOU ARE READING
Does the Rain Ever Stop?: Poems and Musings
PoesiaHello Reader, This is my collection of poems and thoughts that I have compiled over the last few years. I have been writing for many years and my number one hope is that someone reads my poems and feels seen. Says "oh that's me". We all live in this...
