Thursday, July 5, 2012

Poem of Despair


The Path of Wrath
written 2006

When does it end? This path I call wrath, for it is a journey filled with pain, anquish and sorrow.
I sometimes ask myself, "is life worth living?, Should I just end my tomorrow?"
As I walk this path I call wrath, I seem to see so many rivers of tears, and wonder if they will ever
 disappear through the years.
Every year that passes me by, as I walk a new valley, I see black roses that seem to shrivel into ashes as I pass them by.
There is constantly darkness that surrounds me, and I ask myself "why?"
Why does my soul continue to hurt and to cry?
As I walk this path I call wrath, these rivers of tears seem to be the most dreadful of all,
for these rivers are the only, that can truly make fall!
Every breath that I take is a second closer to loss, I then think "when again will this dreadful river of tears need to be crossed?"
I dread them so dear, for they have filled my heart soley with emptiness, blackness, and fear.
They have damaged my soul, and competence to withhold any happiness, and only to draw tears.
I have lost the ability to trust, and any happiness I seem to establish only turns into to dust.
When does it end? This path I call wrath? A journey that continues to make me dread what withholds me tomorrow.
God willing, with all the faith I can possibly borrow, maybe one day my heart will no longer be hollow.





A Threshold To Let Go
(Written November 2012)

I freguently check my texts and emails in the hopes that he'll come back 

I've destroyed something precious, now he's gone, so I must face that fact

Catastrophic impulses certainly were not my natural intention
  
Hence the dynamics of foolish arrogance, I have shattered our ever so joyous connection

Why should he feel anything more than disgust for me now?
  
For my actions were far worse than the stumbles of an arrogant drunken clown

How my heart aches to affirm that the negligent behaviors portrayed are not customarily that of mine

Grievously, I am aware of the delusive desire to turn back the hands of time

So agonizing, survives the puncture that I have brought into my own existence

The vision of his heavenly" all " painfully compels the banishment of his beautiful essence

Acceptance, destined to be the only healer of my wounded components

Amidst, the tormenting embrace of these ever so heartbreaking moments