Poem For an EndMature

I judge too harshly in one glance;
And, in one moment, flick a switch,
Turn off my corporeal emotion,
Because it has caused a lie and a judge
To grow from petty arguments;
They lie as our sand and our root,
Both to ground and to deracinate,
Like the crows that hang over seed.
I am my own set of animals,
Eagerly feasting on my own jagged bones;
Even they cannot scratch through this mouthful,
And violent sickness causes self-directed hatred.
Now this soul has learnt a lesson,
Through being your fool in rhythmic mockery –
You cannot challenge my capacity
To know: I’ve played with tricks of light,
Called them my friends,
It was once,
Yet, I still saw the ephemera,
Those fairies gave themselves away –
Not through gnashing teeth or waving stings –
But through their very power: beauty.
They were indeed too beautiful in my eyes.
Only the truest beauty escapes sight,
When I asked to touch him, to reach out,
I was pushed away and bars thrown
At my door in continuous motions.
The pointed knife laughs as it carves
More and more demons into
My subconscious; and I am the processor,
The meat for their alien nails.
Don’t you remember that I have learnt?
My very body altered under stress,
Under the pounding irons of those fingertips.
But a Light dragged me back,
Drowning my internal enemies
In the placid fibres of a calming well.
When I am completely anew,
You shall remember me
As the one who was always better.

The End

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