PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am stabbed right through my heart

My memories, my pen, do the deed.

Somehow it happens again - and again

As a compulsive, deliberate need.



Pain. I live with it. I die with it;

Daily, nightly, it is my companion.

I try to escape. My jail, my torture, wins.

Dig my grave in the rocky canyon.



You may see the joyous dawn, the blushing sky -

I see the repetition, the garish birth

Of another crude cycle of demeaning pain

That will never end, while on this earth.



Gash through my chest, slice a path

So dammed up pain can burst out, run away,

Nourish some weed, some sewer rat.

Mighty mind, strong sword-like pain... do flay!