Write this on a blank piece of paper:
Every feeling the name of the last person you talked to gives you
Whether it is decent, or indecent
Tragic or wonderful
Loving, or filled with hate
Write it down.
Standing in the middle of a field
That produces no crop
Contains no smell at all
Storms come through sometimes
And I have to lay on the ground
Praying it is over soon.
I have no shelter to protect me
Stubborn as a woman
That has had everything in life
Ripped from her
Or denied her.
Faith comes in waves
Sometimes I am the saint
Sometimes the hypocrite
At times, the servant kneeling before him
A perfect mess
Created for peace
Enslaved by guilt
Entrusted with more love
Than anyone has ever understood.
By what happens to me
In the middle of this field.
People walk up
I don’t know whether to kill them
Or tell them to keep walking.
Peace comes in waves of silence
That I beg for every night,
Or at least used to.
As an indentured servant
To those that would do nothing but harm
I find only silence
Can quiet the demons within me.
Trust is out of the question
Because every time that word is mentioned
There is pain involved.
Foraging for food one day
I realize I have a gift
Thought many probably have it to
I like to relish in mine.
Taunting and teasing
Through metaphor and creation.
Take that piece of paper and read it tomorrow
See if you still feel the same way.
The shittiest thing about humans
Is their ability to throw one another away
With no regard
With no impunity.
Life, a tragic mistake made by two fools
That at one time
Thought they knew the meaning of love.