The Hand That Guides Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
One of the last poems I wrote in my early twenties before taking a break for 3/4 years.
The loss of innocence, the struggle to remain an individual, and the reluctant pursuit to fit in with others. There are always consequences.

Submitted: July 19, 2015

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Submitted: July 19, 2015

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I awake from my dream only to find myself screaming

it's not the shadows that frighten me, but the men.

They are not real men, not even shadows of men

they are the guise of monsters.

It is monsters who lurk in the dark,

It is monsters who always want and never give

But I see them.

I see their shadows

I hear their voices.

I hope I don't have what they want

but I don't know what they want,

But I see them.

I see the clowns around my bed

they stare at me with greed in their eyes.

My innocence is lost in their hands

I have no choice but to follow in their guise.

Now I am compromised,

my shadow has left me for another mate,

there is no woman who will entrust me their fate,

I have gone away with no one to go with me out into the late

Of night.

There are no shadows who dare speak to me,

the walkways are blank faces of concrete and stone,

I have witnessed the clouds flee the sky in my passing,

and I know why.

There is no party for me to attend

the clowns have seen to the guest's needs.

There is no reason for me to be here

but they still have my innocence in their hands.

Who now has my innocence?

It has been passed around for those to enjoy

and now I cannot find it.

No one knows where it is.

No one knows who last had it

Did I ever truly have it?

What was it I had?

What was it I lost?

 

Let me think about it.


© Copyright 2017 Jeff Bezaire. All rights reserved.

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