Something Old I Found. No Title.

I'm sorry for what I've become;

a mask of glass and memories covers me.

The prodigal child died in its womb

and what was left stands before you, the unwanted remains.

The cracking sky never looked so beautiful and grey,

the clouded sun lights the nameless streets that I haunt.

It's just part of the sick joke I live.

The days when we were young have up and left

and with it went their innocence

to leave me here beneath the trees with empty arms.

Was it supposed to be like this, or did I make a wrong turn?

The night rides on to kill the day, replacing it with bitter black.

Was it always like this?  Was I just too dumb to know the difference?

Days bleed on slowly, weeks, months, years, falling into infinity

until the impossible day when I throw them away

becayse I know I can't help but do this to myself.

Hollow wind screams through the branches of dried-up trees

like dead promises, stretched and exposed without leaves.

I walk from trunk to trunk and see myself in the knotted bark, so coarse,

and in the flowers brown and wilted.

The summer days when they were so bright still tasted on my tongue

as stars light up the chandelier with ghostly glowing

Just to show me these cracked hands and grey eyes,

the broken windows to my soul.

coffeeshopwithacause coffeeshopwithacause
18-21, F
2 Responses Mar 14, 2010

I'm so glad ^-^

This is beautiful. Excatly what I needed.