Deacon Songs's blog: "another poem"

finding within myself a part of me that shouldn’t be

molded out of pain and many sufferings

shadowing in the darkest corners of my soul defining me

capable of compassion and many ugly things

scratched upon the walls of this box are my insecurities

there is a sense of security in being lonely

that velvet box that once contained my soul is

crumpled up like tumble weed and rolls when pain blows

all sides frayed and torn, like a flag after the storm

 it no longer keeps me warm

I am broken shards of glass strewn across a barren waste land

as I’m offered a gentle manicured hand

just out of reach from where i lay broken and scarred

gazing up into a place I’d rather be but it’s too hard

retreating to a corner of my desolate illusion

no longer feeling a pulse for I'm too numb

the over whelming silence is so surreal

after construction of a box made of concrete and steel

sitting in solitary confinement  diluted by alcohol

there is no window and the end of that hall

with no entry nor escape my phobias keep me company

turning hate and rage in on myself eventually

destruction of this armor that protected me

the air on my wounds provides me with an epiphany

smear a smile on my face and a tear on my cheek

now it hides the pain from which I do not speak

sit before you stand when you lay flat on your back

walls cannot protect because the pain is being stacked

sitting inside a sandbox of pain saturated by tears

are you focused on the weight paralyzed by fear?

the voice echoes inside the chamber until I understood

as I brushed the sand off my chest, I felt good