Post by b on May 31, 2011 23:10:49 GMT -6
Not sure this would be considered poetry or not. And, too, it could use much more work as it was never finished.
***
It lies just behind the mask I wear. This mask is not unique to me, we all wear them. These masks hide the real us that lurks inside.
My mask is is more than just a cover. It also acts as a barrier. It keeps the outside from invading to far inward. However, it keeps the thing inside at bay. The thing that protects me from others and them from me. The thing, that if turned loose would do much harm and allow the blood to flow. If it were as in the days of old the blood would run thick and free. This thing inside would be let loose upon this fetid world. Perhaps this world needs this freed to cleanse us both.
I know not how much longer this mask will hold. I see the cracks and feel them grow as it weakens daily. I fear it as much as it hates all around me.
Yet I embrace it as it keeps me company on those dark nights that only grow longer with each tick of the clock. It lacks sympathy, love or compassion. Nor does it seek those things that are for the fool hardy and the weak.
I had much rather have the hate and anger coursing through my veins. They both keep my blood hot and full of vengence. They are also honest. Much more so than love or forgivness.
***
It lies just behind the mask I wear. This mask is not unique to me, we all wear them. These masks hide the real us that lurks inside.
My mask is is more than just a cover. It also acts as a barrier. It keeps the outside from invading to far inward. However, it keeps the thing inside at bay. The thing that protects me from others and them from me. The thing, that if turned loose would do much harm and allow the blood to flow. If it were as in the days of old the blood would run thick and free. This thing inside would be let loose upon this fetid world. Perhaps this world needs this freed to cleanse us both.
I know not how much longer this mask will hold. I see the cracks and feel them grow as it weakens daily. I fear it as much as it hates all around me.
Yet I embrace it as it keeps me company on those dark nights that only grow longer with each tick of the clock. It lacks sympathy, love or compassion. Nor does it seek those things that are for the fool hardy and the weak.
I had much rather have the hate and anger coursing through my veins. They both keep my blood hot and full of vengence. They are also honest. Much more so than love or forgivness.