Balancing delicately on emotion
One more expression you'll tip
You felt too much up 'til now
How much more can you permit?
There are letters crowding a shoe-box
Waiting restlessly to make their trip
Do they speak of a long-dead past
To some allusions you haven't gripped
What keeps you from sending them
Why keep these words so tight-lipped
Come to terms with the fear, child
Sooner or later we all must sail that ship.
Pools of hate at your feet
Wrung from your desperate hands
They clench as you bend reality
In your head to fit your demands
The blood of your bitter torment
Flowing from the body of an icon
He is the target of your rage
The one you have seeked revenge on
Will his death seal the vault
Or would that add to the hole
All dying is temporary, my lady
Forever will last guilt within your soul.
Do you feel the loss of faith
That dwells under humiliation
There are no fruits on the tree
That was fed by your degradation
Do you feel a chill of remorse
For this script you have wrote
Will this evict all the demons
Be worthy of the time you devote
Consider the sweat on your brow
At what conclusion did you arrive?
Those feelings of hate are still there
All the labor-- the icon is still alive.
Reminders of the horrid past
Show up on your lovers' faces
Words meant for minor pain
Turn back some virulent pages
The ink is still fresh and clean
And the paper gleams flush white
From the margins a mist rises
You turn pale at this ominous sight
All she's done exposed in sky-writing
The message seen is still so unclear
Slowly you breathe in its meaning
But as words it doesn't come anywhere near.
Seas of disarray toss your mind
As this mystery grows ever vague
What you knew breaks its chains
Each piece falls away to stravage
Grasping for your scattered consciousness
Trying to assemble this evasive puzzle
All the pieces look the same shape
Perseverance and sanity is being guzzled
About to give up all dangling hope
The connection suddenly becomes plain
The answer lies within the victim
Time has come to end this outdated game.
The abuser was within the mind
Fists were fighting inside the brain
The fault was lying not in the scars
But wrapped and tied into a name
You made yourself the typical victim
Kept untold yesterday's violent truth
Held from others the whole story
That's when shame had secured its roots
At last the tale has been told
Here privacy will be guarded
Look around, this story's not unique
But its unveiling has only been started....
Poetry has the last word.