There’s enough of this world
Of who I am not
Cannot be
Hide behind twice-folded truth
Turn around, about face
Repeat until you believe
Let the sun lamps blind you
Burn you
Warm you with the pain
'Til it trickles down your arms
Like so many storms of rain
And finds itself another mould
Until then
Until then it turns the pages black
The mirror can’t turn back
Have you broken your walls?
They bear your nailprints
Until it not matters
Come back to the remembrance
There’s more to see than this
I love this poem, Rachel, it's so honest.
ReplyDeleteI really love this. I am not sure that it's exactly what you are saying but, I like the concept of pain changing its mould. Coming back in another form. But it shapes you. Just as a mould creates.
ReplyDeleteYou nailed it.. now my poetry is accomplished.
ReplyDelete