melissaahowells
|
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
You may be right
but you may be wrong. You may never have known me never ever, all along. And you don't get to say anything. Anymore. You are silence. Not even squeaking. Words you thought you were speaking are nothings. Just a momentary stirrings of the air. You will be gone. You were wrong. Never right. Thinking, whining, opining you knew me. We're not even strangers passing through the dark night of the soul. I was a nothing nothing in your tiny tiny minds. Made it so easy-peasy for you all to be more than unkind. All of the wailing hurricanes of hate you blew were putrid. There will be such a peace when you all have gone. My emotional sense of self is wise and strong. I know I know what's stink on stink. And when a rose bush is a thorn bramble. Standing it all alone in my own small light that was the problem, wasn't it? That was my fight, the one you all objected to. You stood together in one long line and swallowed gulping darkness then belched it out. All of you were drowning in your residual lake of anger and the swirling doubts about who you were. You tried to drown me as you were drowning. You think of me as a glimmer. A dim reflection. An annoying glare. You misunderstand and misunderstood, were not aware. Or should I say were un-enlightened? The light caught you by surprise. It made you angry. Now it takes too much of me to hate the whole of you. May your regiments soldier on into your bad night and hate me as you will. Your cognitive dissonance does not inform, it only wounds and confounds. Together or separately, you may continue to all fall down, lick your pretended hurts. I'm not listening. I will no longer be your just deserts. Copyright March 4, 2013 All Rights Reserved By This Author Melissa A Howells/Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World Vote for this poem |
|
