Behind Our Scars

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
We all hurt, but do we ever allow ourselves to hurt together?

Submitted: January 29, 2007

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Submitted: January 29, 2007

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As I pass through stain glass doors,

I'm captured by the deathly reverence,

which guards this sacred place.

 

My glare is purloined.

My heart sinks,

as I'm forced to gaze upon her vacant face.

 

Her apparent emptiness allures me

into a mysterious dance of conciousness,

bring me into communion with her pain.

 

Her lethargic body mirrors my dieing soul.

Her slit wrists exemplify my broken heart.

Her pain is my pain.

 

Her lips part.

Her breath leaks into my soul,

whispering, "I starve for Beauty"

 

I vanish into  streams of tears

that douse my cheeks,

as I fall upon my knees, and pray,

 

"Beauty, please return.

Are you blind

at how your Royalty

has been reduced

to these Bulemic Queens

and Suicidal Kings?

Beauty want you please,

PLEASE RETURN!"

 

The Pharisaic bystanders clench me,

and pull me away from her broken spirit,

declaring my own wretchedness.

 

Yet a fire still burns in me!

as they mummify me

in their self-righteousness.

 

For I entered this sacred place

in search of Beauty,

and it was her fires

I found burning behind our scars! 

 


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