The Breaking

I keep pouring myself into hope

only to be crushed by the wave of loneliness…

when will it break?

When my predictions are borne out,

I don’t want to be right.

I don’t want to be right.

When I try to keep the faith,

when I give my fire to feed the flame,

I’m left standing with these ashes in my hands.

It’s like you expect me to give and give and give to you,

give my life away and not receive a thing.

Tell me how I find balance when all my strength is on holding the pieces.

Letting go of your hand, not caring if I fall or if I stand,

running to the wave that would crash into me.

I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again – this won’t be the breaking of me.

Image by nahid hatamiz from Pixabay

Dark Hours

I remember the world felt young

As if anything could happen, anything be done

And when I thought of who I’d become

I didn’t see these years, I didn’t feel this numb

You’ve got a fighter, a fighter on your hands

And those wars that made me what I am

are still in play

I survived those dark hours and I’ll carry on today

Image by PolarityFlow from Pixabay

Shadowland

The last time I remember

not being scared out of my

ever-loving mind,

was in a foreign land.

Fields of lavendar guarding

castle ruins

Butterfly wings beating

you might not hear it

but it’s a hurricane to me

make a scene

make a scene

make a scene

though I doubt that you’ll see me

I keep my distance

I see shadows when the sun is shining

Image by Игорь Левченко from Pixabay

Shadow of me

The problem with me is that I’m all in —

driving you off before you can begin

to think of me as somebody.

The problem is that I look

for the people who can’t see me.

To become their reflection is too tempting

when I’m already a shadow of me.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

The Ashes of Freedom

Open the prison doors

but my mind is still in lockdown

You pushed the lever that set the gears in motion

I’m an open flame

burn it all down

won’t you burn with me

I’m silent. I can’t speak.

shut down even when I’m awake

I can’t remember anything

maybe it’s better this way –

stay numb so it doesn’t matter when the words don’t come

what I enjoy becomes

a burden,

something to avoid

Dark Waves

The things that I have seen have haunted my dreams

The things that I have heard have stayed with me

It doesn’t matter how fast I run

It doesn’t matter how far I go

I’m trapped inside this penitentiary

Dark waves crash into me

pulling me out, out to sea

Image by Roger Mosley from Pixabay

When I Can’t Breathe

A perpetual state of fear

with a dash of agony, maybe I need

a dose of reality

I tell myself to step into the pain,

step into the pain

I could do this a thousand times but I’m

locked inside again when the next round comes

How long do I have to hide my face?

Where do I hide when I can’t escape me?

Image by fancycrave1 from Pixabay

Burn this Candle

Burn this candle late at night,

when you see no hope in sight.

When the lights have gone out

and all that’s left is doubt,

burn this candle to give you light.

And don’t give up without a fight.

Even when the world seems dim,

live your life upon a whim.

Dare to be all that you can.

Then, look and see how you’ve ran.

You will see you’ve gone the distance

because you didn’t lose your resistance.

For one little glimmer of light

burned for you on your darkest night.

Burn this candle to rekindle your life.

ACR circa 2002

Image by Tapani Hellman from Pixabay

In the Absence of

I have the keys to everything but I can’t find the door.

I’m a poison dagger, baby. Maybe you should run or do you want more?

I’m an echo of yesterday, why is it so hard to walk away?

I try and I try but don’t know if I’m able.

People assign you a weight when you carry the wrong name.

Try to hide, lost the years because I was paralyzed.

Wish I was numb but all that’s clear is the ache, waiting for their patience to break.

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

On Being

shaking, shaking

my heart is racing, racing

freeze – fight – flee

I know the darkness that’s chasing me.

Pretending it doesn’t exist, I’m pressing on until the end, but I’m left shaking, shaking.

Terror icing my veins, fear seizing my brain, panic setting in no matter how many times I do this.

I wish this was all in my head so I could stop being so bad.

I don’t want to disappoint. I just want to be good.

Torturing myself, I forge ahead, and I feel like I’m breaking, breaking.

I made my own porcelain mask; now I won’t bother anyone.

From the outside it appears, as if I am really here, but how can I be present when I’m living in fear?

I wish this was all in my head so I could stop being so bad.

Image by Marc Pascual from Pixabay