There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.
When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
up
down
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.
He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries here comes
the plow.
He began to see
the pattern of life.
There are monsters
that walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 17th, 2024 00:01
- Comment from author about the poem: Check out my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems on Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/Seedy-Town-Blues-Thomas-Case/dp/B0CJLR274H/
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments3
Good write T.
Thanks.
So very sad and realistic to any human and their life story. We all have one this is superb.
She made nightmares look good.... That's excellent. I on e had a boyfriend like that, he'd make hell look like Disney world 🌹
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I think we can all relate. I edited the you tube video. In the current video, I read Dark Corners of the Soul.
Very relatable. I think lots of us have a "little boy/girl" inside them. It's like an unfilled hole that wants to be filled but never is, keeping us in the time of when it was created. I felt something when reading this and realized how lucky I am. Nicely done. - Phil A.
Thank you, Phil. I appreciate it. I edited the you tube video, On the current video, I read Dark Corners of the Soul.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.