My faith - from the start had been chosen.
All through my life - pain, agony, would follow.
A smile was something I could fake so easily.
Since no one could read this ripped book of mine.
There were many words left unsaid.
Many promises - made were broke.
Lies - opened up old wounds scattered.
I couldn't stop - wouldn't stop, even if I should.
Friends that may act like they understood - wouldn't.
River - so red that it reminded me of a bloody wounds.
The color red - becoming my most worse nightmare.
Cringing inside when I couldn't stop the broken sounds.
I am - that walker who could never stand looking forward.
The seeker - that could never looked towards the past.
A time stopper - wouldn't seem to stop if capable.
This air - never once meant to be breathed; Taken into the lungs and then curses the soul who tired.
My life - an open book, no cover, blood stained pages, never once read.
No one - not even once- tried to understand....
What is there to break when already everything has been broken?
Copyright @
Miki Simmons
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem