Words Are Knives

March 29, 2009
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Words are knives, that pierce my skin
They fly so fast and find a way in.
Superfluous flow. They don’t think I know
Only because it doesn’t show.
Smother my soul and raise the flag
I escape in a dream, I drop and I drag
Unconscious state. I carry my weight
The heaviness returns and it’s too late.
Comfortably on edge in a small metal box
The world runs wild while I’m laden with locks.
The ink drips in. I cannot win.
The veil becomes increasingly thin.
The guilt is a wildfire that catches up to me.
Should I lay down and let go or jump up and flee?
I am a match. I lift the latch
And free myself for I will catch.
I attend the daily masquerade in fear of being seen
I squeeze my way through the crowd and slip right in between.
So unreal. That’s how it feels.
Let’s wait until this injury heals.

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spiria said...
Dec. 27, 2010 at 9:16 am

Your poems are exactly the ones I've been dying to write!

Why must we be condemned to this masquerade where we must act behind masks?

It would be so much easier if we can just run away.....

olican16 said...
Aug. 16, 2010 at 10:28 am
this is really good!!!! i love the way you did your rhyme scheme!! great job!
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