For those who Dare
not smiles, just shadows
cut through the veins.
focus on caring less
heeling – no pain.
rough years still here.
dirt breathing in.
sweating and tearing.
heavy fault crushing.
stick in a needle.
it’s lost and it’s gone.
buried inside me
it’s evil, so wrong.
not fixed but just shattered.
not able to glow.
it touches those places
I can’t just let go.
give me forgetfulness
fill up my glass
let me be brave
and scream off this mask.
mark me, don’t leave me
still bleeding inside.
it’s me that I mourn for,
that day that I died.
Pretending to know
you’re spreading my thighs
you cover my face
and listen to sighs.
I cover those lies very well as I die.
*** Author’s Note: Written in response to a prompt from Poetry Jam: Songs for the Dead. I’m scared to release this and in some ways would rather leave it unsaid… In fact, this is the first time writing about “it” like this.
Posted on August 7, 2011, in poem and tagged death, Pain, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.
Butterfly and Cocoon 
That is a really moving piece. I could feel the ache and the fleeting release. Thank you for writing.
Thank you Emily for connecting to this write…
your voice comes out haunting and sad. i also want to add that we all die a little of ourselves when we live in lies, and allow others to have control over our life.
thanks for your lovely words in my blog ~ (sadly the hands pic is not mine)
nice to meet you as well ~
i appreciate your insight. yes – part of ourselves dies in the lies, just sometimes we need to lie to live and then what?
some day, i dare myself to write to this, some day.
oceangirl, thank you for stopping by. I love how you write. I wish I could respond freely to your comment but I feel pain. ❤ ❤
Someone has used the word haunting to describe this cry in the dark, and it is a good word. The search for forgetfulness leads us down sorrowful paths. Thank you for having the courage to post this poem. and to participate in the Poetry Jam prompt this week.
Thank you for this prompt and for inviting creativity. Thank you for visiting and responding.
Powerful! There’s freedom in letting go, and writing allows us to do that.
Thank you so much for visiting and commenting. I would love to give you a cup of coffee or tea and feel free…
Phew, this one packs a punch, several punches in fact! Moving, impressive, and teetering on the edge of unbelievable. I’d say well done, but it would be too insipid.
I appreciate your comment very much, David. I never feel my writing is done. Am I strong enough to write? Will my limitations allow it or will I allow myself to walk freely in my raucous plains?