Snow Blind Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

You've parched my anger.
Now I need to drink and grow,
become a stranger,
climb, without danger.

You held me back, removed my wings,
denied me any meaningful love, day, night or morning.
Warning: there's no walking away.
I'll destroy your name.
I don't play silent games.
I know all your weak spots
and join them, dot to dot.

You've already done
as much as you can to hurt me,
to break me.
So it's time to get off my knees
and start walking
without crying.

Does a caterpillar desist existence,
or does it evolve
and propel itself forward
without being grounded
to a falling empire?

You've taken all you need.
There's little left of me,
just a ghostly smile
I can no longer hide.
Love is snowing when I'm blind,
love is snowing when I'm snow blind,
remembering
our embers.

You've parched my anger.
Now I need to drink and grow,
become a copy of my real self,
with a story still unaddressed,
to sow and flower, wild and free,
without fear, a tear in a desert of self-healing.
I guess it must get easier.