March 1, 2010
By azeller BRONZE, Burlington, Kentucky
azeller BRONZE, Burlington, Kentucky
1 article 0 photos 0 comments


My first real moment with this feeling,
The feeling of crisis,

The night I broke everything,
The night I broke my family,
My mother,
My trust,

It was by a dumpster,
Next to hundreds of pounds of rubbish.
It was by a naked tree,
Standing ever so petite.
It was in the cold,
The dark, dead, bitter winter.

It was with the deep breaths,
The sighs, the pauses, the tensions.
It was then I had to do it,
Become humble; honest.

It was last night,
I told my mother I couldn’t stand to be
around her; I’d rather sleep in my car.
It was last night I did it,
I broke everything.

I lied, I deceived.
I broke, I died;
My soul, my conscience, my pride,
I died.

That was the night,
The night I realized I’m not a good kid.
Not a good daughter, person, nor human being.
That was the night I died inside.

It was by a dumpster,
Next to the trash of millions.
It was by a naked tree,
The solemn, lonely, miniscule tree.
It was in the cold,
The quiet, ferocious, vast winter.

It was in this place.
Where I broke everything.
My mother,
My trust,

It was in this place,
The place where I belong.
The place where I wonder to;
In my mind, my dreams, my nightmares.

It was in this place,
It was there where I had it;
This first feeling, this damned epiphany;
It was there where I realized,
I am not, nor never was.
I am fallible.

The author's comments:
The school assignment was to write an unrhymed poem about a personal epiphany. Just so happens the biggest challenge in my life is taking place, and this one was easy to write. Something it says next to this text box is "inspiration". My inspiration for this; I owe it to my lack of inspiration, my fallibility.

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