Looking back at me is the face of distortion;
changing and growing
yet still afraid and knowing
that each day
I can still fall….
Falling and flailing
against morass of psychic tar,
and knowing that it came
from within me
makes my soul
weep for all my mistakes..
and from the pain I have caused
and the wounds I have inflicted,
through my need
to walk my own journey–
and plow through those I love
as if they were paper.
The mirror dosen’t lie
because it is a scriver
and it shows the present and the furute
even if that future is covered
in loss.
Leave a Reply