Sharp and rough
your bark scratches my skin raw.
Blood paints your face a murderer.
Spine-chilling and bloodcurdling
you feed off of my fears and pains.
Barging into my mind like an uninvited guest
and picking at the remnants of meat on the bone.
Rejoicing when another surge of stress comes along.
In my darkest hours you use my pain and sorrow
against me to batter me down.
Living with you is running in the woods at night
with no stars or moon to guide me.
I can’t tell up from down,
left from right
right from wrong.
So I just let you be,
a tree with a tortured face.
Your face is seared in my mind as you mark my skin as yours.
If I only knew
All I had to do was turn on the light
then you’d be gone forever.
-
Author:
M.E.M. (
Offline) - Published: May 5th, 2021 10:58
- Comment from author about the poem: Portfolio Poem 3. This poem was created and based on the Pain-Body I made. I don’t have a fear of the dark, I have a fear of walking alone at night and seeing faces in the shadows. Created: 2-16-2021 | Edited: 3-15-2021 | Finalized: 4-28–2021. Comments are welcome. Also what would this classify as?
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
Offline)
Comments2
That light takes us to the magnificent places in our lives MEM, just switch it on.
Andy
I would classify this as an impassioned poet's latest step
towards actualising their dream of crafting that elusive: perfect text,
liked the editorial diary dates, it takes experience
to acknowledge the toils of craft, within artistry..
thanks for sharing
That’s a great interpretation! Thanks for sharing it with me
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