Examination

February 27, 2012
By mdoering PLATINUM, Phoenix, Arizona
mdoering PLATINUM, Phoenix, Arizona
39 articles 0 photos 10 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Sure, I can talk like you, but I choose not to, It's like an art, you know? Picasso had to prove to the world he could paint the right way, before he goes putting both eyes on the side of a face... See if you paint wrong because that's the best you can do, you just a chump. But you do it because you want to? Then you're an artist...You can take that to the grave and dig it up when you need it.”
― Neal Shusterman, Unwind


Like a ditch filled with stagnant water after a torrential rain
I waited,
Bloated with useless knowledge,
An overworked piece of clay
In the incompetent hands of strangers.

At first I didn’t realize the damage they had done
In taking me away from you.
Before that moment I was a tiny little leaf
And you were my strong, sturdy breeze,
Always there to carry me to new heights.

Now I am lonely,
Cold and all alone.
Nobody is there to whisk me away
And make me forget.

I have lost my rock, my sweltering bass,
I have lost the will to go on.

As slowly as an IV leaks nourishment
Into stolid veins,
I grew into something less grotesque.
I became my own person,
Created my own luck,
But still I would wonder about you.

Would you still love the new version of me,
The one that no longer needs comfort
And is afraid of meeting new people?
Would the love of an innocuous child still apply
To somebody who has matured so severely?
And would it crumble under my hand-selected ignorance?

And then I am saddened
I struggle for breath
As I can’t bear the lingering whispers of,
“What if…”
I am in a spinning tunnel,
Tears adhering my hair to my blotched and blemished skin

And I think,
I have lost my rock, my sweltering bass,
I have lost the will to go on.

I know my life is far from over,
But as a diamond ring always has a glossy facet
Hidden from view, you are always there,
Beneath the thick blankets of thought,
Hiding, festering, fermenting
And I see no point in continuing my journey.
It will only prolong and intensify my nagging fixation
With what we once had.

I often remember the last words you said to me,
You said if I were a flower I’d be a daisy because I was
Pale and simple, and pretty.
If I had stayed…
If they hadn’t made me go…
If the lake hadn’t been so cold…
If…

I wish I could still be a daisy for you
But,

I have lost my rock, my sweltering bass,
I have lost the will to go on.


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