There is a broken thing that resides in me.
It scrapes its way along my bones.
It tears and claws at my insides,
with the splinters of itself.
In outrage it tries to rip its way out of me.
Rage its fuel,
hate is its weapon and tool.
This broken thing of mine --
I do not want.
It is the shattered window of my soul,
wrapped in barbed-wire of past hurts,
broken bits of memory suppressed,
forgotten, but never laid to rest.
Its cruel sharp claws,
a life-long accumulation of broken dreams.
It's jagged teeth,
pointed insults of the past.
It sings a lonely song of pain,
As it chases hope around.
Gnashing teeth and groaning--
pleas of forgetfulness.
It scrapes its way along my bones.
It tears and claws at my insides,
with the splinters of itself.
In outrage it tries to rip its way out of me.
Rage its fuel,
hate is its weapon and tool.
This broken thing of mine --
I do not want.
It is the shattered window of my soul,
wrapped in barbed-wire of past hurts,
broken bits of memory suppressed,
forgotten, but never laid to rest.
Its cruel sharp claws,
a life-long accumulation of broken dreams.
It's jagged teeth,
pointed insults of the past.
It sings a lonely song of pain,
As it chases hope around.
Gnashing teeth and groaning--
pleas of forgetfulness.