My Mask Of The Dark Deep Poem by Crimson Reflections

My Mask Of The Dark Deep



Agony and pain writhe in my stomach,
threatening to burst from my mouth,
burning my tongue as it passes by.
Betrayal and unrealistic hatred squirm within my lungs.
Can I not have a moment of peace,
a second of calm?
Must feelings control my life;
constantly disrupting my happiness?

Tears fight my will.
They wish to flow freely,
but my mask shall remain unshattered.
It rests upon my face in calm, uncaring stature;
assuring those who care of my seemingly stable well-being.
They only see the surface,
but the fatal currents of the ocean lie beneath what the eye digests.
And those currents are fighting hard to drag me under.

The face upon my face remains the same as always
while mine screams,
eyes wide in terror.
My soul,
the controlling current,
pulled me deeper and deeper into darker and darker waters.
I've been in this Hell many times before.
It never fails to consume and subdue me,
my feeble attempts at freedom hardly leaving a mark.

I see the menacing wall of liquid bricks.
It draws nearer and nearer.
The color a deep burgundy,
the wave crashes upon my head,
snapping my neck back and dragging me down further.
The blood of my past has taken water's roll:
to crush my spirit in the hands of my vengeful, broken soul.

My gaping mouth makes room for a shriek,
but oozing blood fills my lungs.
Desperately, I try to cough,
but the damaged soul has the power of revenge.
It wraps its angry fingers about my throat
and prevents the suffocating liquid's escape.
Tighter, tighter, tighter.
I hear my neck cracking,
muscle tearing,
hope drowning.
Pain has all but vanished in my desperate attempt to escape.

I close my eyes.
I think.
I let my mind wander,
taking me away from the agony of depression.
I reminisce.
A hand about my waist,
lips pressed to mine,
murmured words of adoration.

Slowly,
reluctantly,
Soul's grip around my broken neck eases.
Its fingers seep through the skin and grabs a vertibrae.
Gently it repairs my broken and mangled body,
its touch reassuring now,
no longer harsh and threatening.
The crimson liquid turns to pure oxygen
and the opaque water around me turns sapphire and calm,
shallow enough for me to sit and breathe.

Were you watching me?
Did you see any of that struggle?
I cam so close to losing yet another war against my battered past
and you had no idea.
I drowned,
broke my neck,
and died
within myself,
and you just continued talking to me with that taunting, carefree smile.
Are you aware how many times this battle has been waged?
Can you see the scars on my shoulder and wrist
where my soul's bloody nails slashed my skin using my hand?
Of course not.
You just see the surface.
You see my mask.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Killing Hope 02 June 2009

A long tale like poem, it's pretty epic, great job.

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success