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.
Comments are closed.