I’ve pricked my finger
On a razor-blade thorn,
Like my fragile emotions,
It’s bloodied and torn.
What’s left of the armour,
Long tossed in the dust,
Left me vulnerable
To the wrongs I can’t trust.
Were the iron not rusted,
The plates still intact,
The smile upon me
Might not be an act.
For the villains still hidden
Behind innocence and woe
Attack from within me,
Abuse what I know.
When the mind’s so much stronger
Than the capsule contained,
The silence keep screaming,
The image turns stained.
Though the blood has stopped dripping
And the dermis shall heal,
The demons still ravage
All hope I might feel.
I can’t do all I wish to,
Can’t keep up with my dreams,
While I’m trapped in my weakness,
I’ll be barred from sweet schemes.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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The first stanza gives an "ouch" visual. Felt it, and saw it. Do I ever and often relate to this stanza;
"When the mind’s so much stronger
Than the capsule contained,
The silence keep screaming,
The image turns stained."
It's been far too long since I visited daughter. When our children reach adulthood, it is time to let them go. That's what I think has happened here. But please know; you were my very first child on AP, the eldest... I love YOU and miss you sorely.
This poem penetrates the heart and leaves the reader feeling sad and abandoned. I keep you in prayer and close to my heart my angel. I emphatically state that there is always hope, I am always here, and forever loving YOU.
Mommy ♥
♥
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