The Inner Child

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Our Inner Child, so innocent and truthful, often cries out to steer us in the right directions. To tell us when we are off corse and need to nurture an empty, wounded, and dried up heart. Listen and hear it. The inner child is speaking to you.

Submitted: June 10, 2013

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Submitted: June 10, 2013

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The inner child never dies.
Inside of me
Still Louder
Hear it's cries.
 
Shards of memories touch my skin.
Let the cuts of my Dark Dreams
From The Past
Into the present
The Cutting Begins.
 
The flowers
Once colorful and Alive
Part of my soul
Die from these long and painful showers.
 
I try to scream
No voice to be heard
I sink hard into myself
A solid shape dissappears into the
Hot night's Steam.
 
I taste the blood
The rivers of fear
The wounds are band-aided up
with each lost drop of my tears
 
Drain my soul of life's river
This now left a ghost of a man
It Is left here to shake, moan and shiver.
 
I am lost
Can I be found? 
You've got the map
Discover my secrets
 
For after this mask is lost
I can bleed back to life
Where my lost inner child's 
Journey is bound
 
Where I strung him there in a rope
Where my fears of life
Cut the loose ends of rope
With despair's knife.
 

 


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