Chasing Shadows

There is something about the light of day

that makes me want to hide.

To curl myself into a little ball

and roll underneath the couch.

Blinds drawn and shutters closed

creates that feeling of safe.

And yes, I know if I’m closed away

no one else can get in.

It’s double edged this sword I yield

one side raw, the other smooth.

Yet both sides would cut you quicker

than you your eye could ever see.

Weary from the bleeding

but it’s been this way so long.

It has simply become a ritual

almost a coping skill.

Tired of the cutting, scratching,

scraping away old things.

Trying to make room for something to grow

yet something always remains.

It always grows faster than the tiny buds

that promise to bring new life.

Distracting my focus from tending

back to trying to clear the way.

Like a moss or a fungus covering stones

it actually at first deceives.

It attaches itself to something stable

yet produces no seeds or fruit.

Relying on damp, dark places

to sustain its hold on life.

It carries itself on the ever changing wind

and spreads itself around.

My tendency leans toward the dark as well

it feeds as surely as starves.

Leaving me ravenous even after feasting

on shadows and hidden things.

The mystery and magic of the less travelled path

somehow sets me apart.

And on the smooth side of the blade again

it stings being so alone.