A Sestina, I think the style/format is called. Another one of those poems from that old project, probably one of my favorites.
I've come to understand, that if I am to be free
I must continue searching, seeking truth
Let the trials and difficulties bring to life
A spirit and mind once locked in folly, and found
A new mission, so that for once I can really
Be proud of my strong will, thrice broken.
For in reality, it needed to be broken
Along with my pride, that once roamed free
To engulf all it wanted without ever really
Caring what was left of it or me. In truth,
I was blind. After I fell, I didn't want to be found
Among the rubble of that all too destructive life.
Try to understand, then, that for a time I had no life
Aimless, empty, emotionless; a shell, always broken
By choice, for regardless whatever was to be found
Wasn't worth finding, or so I thought. I was never free
From worry or anger, too ashamed of the truth.
I'd not so much avoided life as forgotten it, really.
Not that I could; not for long. No one can really
Do that, decide that; no one can escape life
For long. Regardless, in time sleepers wake up. Truth
Be told, I'd been waiting for it. I had a broken
System, true, but a lot of potential too, that once free
Might even be worth something. But it'd have to be found.
So out I went, and for better or worse, that's what I found
I needed help; that's understandable, but really
I had all I needed. It was my own help, once free
From doubt and indecision, that changed my life.
Clarity, sweet and powerful, had swiftly broken
Through both my illusions and regrets, leaving truth
That, while still vaguely and barely palpable, was truth
Regardless. It wasn't an answer that I'd found
So much as a former delusional reality finally broken
And traded in for a goal, an ideal, for once really
Worth holding on to. I am proud to have a life
Worth fighting for, to have set my own self free.
Though were I free to speak the truth
My thoughts on life, I've found
It wasn't really just me that was broken.