Calypso Shore

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Many times we fall short in life...I can be faulted for falling short of caring about my own well being last when it should be the opposite way. This is the ode to that I suppose.

Submitted: January 13, 2008

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Submitted: January 13, 2008

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Be it the tide in the waters that change and crash
I have scarred myself for the very last
To fall into the traps of the past
Is not where my mind wanders to for some
And I am not settled, just free to see
To cry over spilled blood in the well
is not the curse nor the gift of eternity.
I'm just looking out for the solidarity
That I burn when I see
the reflection of this woman
who has tied herself within
the arms of a man
who hasn't made a clarity
if he really cares for
Me in the depths of this sea
I dream and roam
Can't tape up the sides of silicone
as it slides down my throat
with the cold steel of a blade
to say that I cannot will not is a bed already made
as I do each morning when I scowl at the eyes
that press against this wall, he who steals the prize
is not the worthy, that lays between these thighs
may not be deemed deserving
but I cannot stop the love
on days when I wish that I could
To take away the times I have sat and stabbed myself
My throat is sore, my eyes are swelled
And I cannot continue to exist, nor fade
in the depths of this emotional grave
To this shit I have become a slave
Watch me smear the blood to engrave
that things aren't changing
and I just cry until I cannot breathe
cannot see and this is what has become left of me
in a daze, hazy blue in the bottom of this glass
drowning my inadequecy, swarming with my insecurities
I starve to gain, to hide the way I did before
my past is one I embrace and implore
And to walk away has left me in a state that I'm unsure
Of myself and all the decisions I have ever made
I'm lost right now and to have the back turned from again
I'm sick of this, my pain is a trend
that never changes and never dies
within these cubicle is where it thrives
for to the one and world I will always give
and to the one the world, I can always forgive
this is the tale of an unwanted
this is the tale of an unworthy
this is the tale of one never flaunted
this is the tale of the imperfect
and I can correct some flaws though they seem to be choking me at this time
I can correct these things though I see myself as a failure behind these eyes
Wish I could say that I was healed
Wish I could say that things aren't this broken behind the  mirror
But my downfalls and my worst times have made this evident
And many from before have become clearer.
My past is one I embrace and implore.
I can love them and love you.
But I need to love me just a little bit more.
-Circa September '07


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