Reads: 121  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 06, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 06, 2018



This is not something I've completely been.

Been too afraid of the lion's den.

I wrote once of wanting escape.

Seeking anything except what seemed fate.

Yes, I wanted out, but it was only a wish.

I did little to change what I'd been dished.

I've taken my life into my hands.

I don't care where fate's arrow lands.

I'm doing this for only me.

I'm tired of your little tug-of-war, you see?

A battle at home has always raged.

But now I'm on a different page.

It couldn't go on forever.

I've switched all the levers.

I've lived a different life outside of here.

Now, I'm letting you see thru the mirror.

I wanted to hide who I am.

Pretend it's easy living, but damn!

Sure, it could be worse;

I could be in the back of a hearse!

Before you give me your maledictions;

Just know, I'm a mess of contradictions.

I love the light and the dark,

Indoors and in the parks,

Sweet and the sour,

Being productive and wasting the hours.

The heat or the cold.

Being meek or being bold.

I love the winter and the spring.

I've quite lost track of this thing.

What I'm trying to say,

Is that one of these days,

Very soon I should hope,

I'll no longer be walking that tightrope.

By doing what I love and want,

I feel I've found that mythical font.

Turning the old to young.

Finding words unsaid, and songs unsung.

I've made my choice,

And I've found my voice.

A writer I am, and a writer I'll be,

Until my ashes are scattered upon the sea.

There, now I've got that off my chest.

I can lay my pen down to rest.

© Copyright 2019 C A Sechler. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: