When speaking, speaking words
half-planned......
Sometimes
Wanting
we tiptoe
on this bridge of words
and
suffer in ourselves unheard
yet
sometimes, sometimes when we speak
the
truths we feel are rendered weak
yet
other times we hesitate
we wait
too long or call too late
then
in this we misunderstand
the
motive of an outstretched hand
we argue
what is unrefined
and
feel emotions undefined
yet
wanting, wanting what we dare
mistake
an ember for a flare
we’re
drawn again to mutual light
we try
to set wrong things to right
but
what we call for falls away
and
who we fall for goes astray
when
speaking, speaking words half-planned
we render
quiet our demand.
What
Inner Child
I
think my name is just a variation on a theme.
An
afterthought that hangs on the hem of your mind.
A
frivolous accessory embedded in your seam,
A
passing, hushed whisper through plans not silver-lined.
I'm
nothing in an echo following the scream
An
aftershock too weak to touch the wayward heart
And
only in the darkest depths of troubled dreams
Are
you to finish what monstrosities you start.
And
though you beg it's ignorance residing here -
That
marathons you run in place are much to fast
To
hold in true fidelity what you hold dear
To
hear my tantrum cries, each weaker than the last.
So
here I lie, life's misbegotten child of lust
Left
solitary in the confines of your soul
To
wallow in your filthy mind of dreams and dust
Deployed
by fate to make your hell a living whole.
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