No milk today

Folder: 
Dark stuff

Washing the ripped skin off,
fired up from your grievious aggravations 
theyve left bloody, sooty marrs again.

 

no cool milk of compassion too sooth me
and you wonder why my words bite?

picking at the scabs and fingering old wounds
I have not the heartless generosity of you.

 

find the flaws but I relish them as gifts
you see what you want to construct

not as a gift but cursed.

 

Many burns, bites and blunted attacks
have left me calling on thin air

and nothing but the will to survive.

 

If only, i could cut out your tyranny

and find the small weeping child inside

so angry It knows not where to hide

and if in my bosom,

this child cries and finds solace

even scatching and bitting down hard

over helpless pain;

There will be some healing.

There will be some respite.

I will have you back again

in the forgotten light.

 

 

Even upon my death

I will know I have endured
and never laid to rest 

My faith in your deliverance.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for want of a better name... this is a shit poem. but I like it somewhat... sigh..!

View ssmoothie's Full Portfolio
SSmoothie's picture

Rewritten.

Rewritten... And still shit! Maybe ill delete it...:/


Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS    

"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."

SSmoothie's picture

I'll take that as a yes. Tbd.

I'll take that as a yes. Tbd.


Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS    

"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."

SSmoothie's picture

Perhaps one more

Perhaps one more try:

 

Washing the ripped skin off,
fired up from your grievious aggravations 
theyve left bloody, sooty marrs again.

 

Many bites and blunted attacks
have left me calling on thin air

and nothing but the will to survives.

 

no cool milk of compassion too sooth me
and you wonder why my words bite?

picking at the scabs and fingering old wounds
I have not the heartless generosity of you.

 

If only, i could cut out your tyranny

and find the small weeping child inside

so angry It knows not where to hide

and if in my bosom,

this child cries and finds solace

even scatching and bitting down hard

over helpless pain;

 

There will be some healing.

There will be some respite.

I will have you back again

in the forgotten light.

 

Even upon my death

I will know I have endured
and never laid to rest 

My faith in your deliverance.


Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS    

"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."