Dead To Myself

The pages are nearing their end
The book closed for an eternity
Already dust films the leather case
A heart so pure...loving...trusting
Squeezed until it spatters on the wall
Empty Space has reared its ugly head
The words echo terribly in my soul
I need help to breathe, to live again
The last vestige in me that was innocent
So very pure and childlike
Shattered into fragments of glass
I need so much, but want so little in return
A smile, a friendly wave, caress.
No longer shall I feel these things
For I find myself torn between truth and reality
Which is which? Hard to say
No longer am I the angel
But the thing that lives in the dark
Despised by all, misunderstood and scorned
Give a little of myself to one who was strength
Watch it be thrown as if it were rubbish
Tears trickle down my face
Contemplating on what it was like
When my heart leaped with joy
Wondering if it ever will again
Finding my place in the Shadows
Until I find the Light.

xx

23rd Oct, 2006.

*sighs*

Joy will return one day.

I'm sorry you're experiencing this pain. But remember you are not alone. It may seem like small consolation at the moment but in time it becomes rather important.

I have felt your pain...in fact still do. Time will heal (always hated when my mother told me that, but it's true) Then one day the strength will return, but new and stronger.

Talia

Lovely little one. The pain wraps through it like a vine. Even I can feel it.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by TheDeSade

Lovely little one. The pain wraps through it like a vine. Even I can feel it.

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Thankyou...

Sometimes writing poetry does evoke powerful imagery of what feelings are like for some...