~with grace~

where do you find the grace

to let words silently slip away.

to take the proverbial high road

and let them go unsaid.

I am a Scorpio and so infused

with a wicked venomous tongue.

poised to strike at the intruder

who has come into my realm.

double edged and sharp as a knife

I wield a steely pen.

I know how to use it for evil

though I try so hard to do good.

I don’t know how not to react

the sting of the piercing of flesh.

not even just when it is mine

I will defend you to the death.

when injured I will tear into you

and slowly wear you down.

piece by piece I will devour

any lingering wounds.

I cut from the inside as I know you

you told me all of your lies.

I listened intently as I always do

I love even stronger than I hate.

it’s not a thing that I am proud of

please don’t get me wrong.

it’s a warning of sorts that my wicked nature

is not always mine to control.

I don’t take pleasure in staring

at this side of me in the glass.

that mocking grin and evil smile

always staring back.

it seems that few else ever see her though

that she makes her attack under veil.

hiding hidden attacks and suicide bombs

in a package of pretty words.

they always come back to haunt me

while I lie awake at night.

and regret and sorrow cover me

like a heavy leaden cloak.

the evil doesn’t live at the heart of me

defining who I am.

that is why I am telling you this

I want to learn to live with grace.

 

Not Enough Blank Pages

what is it that I keep fighting

my head up against this wall.

what answers do I keep wishing

would grace my aching mind.

what words do I need to hear

that will release this wicked hold.

that confusion has laid upon me

that has pinned me to the floor.

why am I walking around in this fog

dizzy from lack of sleep.

lying awake and writing  stories

on my ceiling in the dark.

if you could see the blank page

as I see it from inside these eyes.

you would see the potential of lifetimes

that will never have the chance to live.

word after word and line after line

are running from end to end.

the blank spaces becoming smaller

no more room for any of this.

words are chasing me like an addiction

and producing a reaction in me.

a racing pulse, *a sweating heart*

a need to somehow be free.

I feel feverish and shaken

rattled most days on end.

I’ve taken to the constant reading of words

to try find what I cannot say.

it’s not for lack of fodder

my god, I’ve an endless supply.

it’s a lack of getting to the heart

of what is eating me from the inside.

the answers I want, quite frankly,

I know will never come.

I want you to tell me that what I felt

was actually something real.

I want you to tell me it mattered

to someone more than just me.

but so clearly and so sadly spun

that story will never be told.

 

 

 

 

*thanks to Jenn Whetton for this line*