Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Lingering Shadows

The past,
Reoccurring and repetitive
A sense of no control
As history repeats itself,
An endless cycle,
Continuously
Falling deep into an eternal pit
Memories irk and trouble the mind

Like a shadow
Consistently trailing behind
Lingering close by
Never able to be shaken off

Never learning fully from the past
Remembering what was then
Reminiscing about what could have been
Yet unable to fix the problem
Wanting to change
Wishing for difference
To put a stop to the never ending sequence

Thoughts flash by
Years before
Actions past
The former you
A part of you forever
Part of your being
Your soul
Your heart
Your mind

Grasping and latching on,
Haunting you
Never able to fully let go
But one needs to learn
Then move on
The past has gone

But always able to resurface
So discover and be prepared
Do not let your nightmares of the past
Haunt the days of your present
And affect the times of your future

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Pitied, So Sorry

The shadows call
The devil’s choir summons
The whispers in his head
The constant pitying looks from the corners of their eyes
Sorry after sorry, apologies splayed
As if they mend broken hearts
As if they calm troubled souls
As if they tame the raging emotions
People think they can slip past on two-faced facades
Thinking he won’t see past their false comforting hold
Believing he won’t notice their imagined situations
Assuming he won’t realize their counterfeit sympathy
Wanting to please everyone is not an easy feat
Repenting seems much simpler
But it reaches a point
Where it all boils over icy
Where it all freezes over scorching
Where the dry rain no longer quenches hunger
Where common sense is questioned
Where societal norms are revealed under new light
Where common sense no longer seems right
Where something, just a little thing, snaps
Where insides jumble into a tangled mess
Where no change shows apparent outwardly
Preying off of self deceit and continuation of all he knows
Tilting from slight smiles to tortured silence
Laughing away people’s doubts
Internally searching and seeking and coming short of an answer
Time dulls the blade’s edge
Time weakens the claw’s pull
Time stifles the banshee’s wails
Time muddies memories unforgotten
But broken blades still cut
Soft clawing leaves marks
Whispered wails shrill eerily
And all the dirt and mud piled thick
Would not erase the lines of graffiti’d concrete underneath
The sane world he lived litters with altered comprehension