Sunday Poem: Thus Speaks My Sorrow
In that grimace smeared across your face,
Like a Glasgow Smile carved into your cheeks,
In your trembling arms, unwilling,
To stitch up the raw ends, scared, scarred.
I am there.
In that fake show, that parade of pseudo-happiness,
The tears in the middle of the night,
The tears in the middle of the day,
The lies that you weave, too ashamed to believe, I am there.
All the time, ever present,
Crippling,
Blinding,
Maiming,
Hacking,
Chopping away,
Slashing,
At your happiness, your peace.
I am there.
I am part of you.
Consuming you, Taking over.
I am your melancholia.
Calling out to you, but misunderstood, Oh, always misunderstood.
In the mist of the teary eyes,
Did you know I come in peace,
For Life sent me, Life said,
“She’ll be happy, but first she has to be strong.”
So here I am. To conquer, by being conquered,
To win, by being defeated,
Now that I have revealed myself, the choice is yours,
Let me stay, or fight me,
Now you know that you’ll win, For I have nothing to lose.
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