November 26, 2010

  • It is always darkest before the dawn

    And my demons

    The moments that strive to rule my life

    They strangle me

    The wind whips around me

    Searing thru my bones

    Stealing my words away

    Leaving me silenced

    The wind whispers a name

    A name Id soon forget

    But he haunts me

    The ghost of my past

    The embodiment of my fears

    And every time I close my eyes

    My fire draws inside myself

    And burns me out from the inside

    I attack myself

    Destroy myself

    To rage against the cold

    That I dare not face

    The snow beating down on me

    As I squint through the fog

    I can't see the dawn

    Will the sun rise today?

Comments (1)

  • I'm very happy to hear from you, and appreciate your evaluation very much! When I started reading this aloud it resonated so well with what you were saying - it's so easy to get lost in the rhythm, like getting lost in the obvious parts of a person, singing idly along to the radio. When I stamp the words on my brain and remember how they feel, how *you* feel, is when it really comes alive, when it really becomes beautiful and agonizing. In trying to see all of it or all of anyone, I have to be careful not to see what isn't there, or what's only in me the observer, you know? It so often covers up what is, and what is is so often so much more important and interesting.

    Anyway, I hope what you wrote helped you, but even if it didn't yet I know you'll make it through, you always have. :)

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