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.