melissaahowells
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some days
the light goes on in the attic the consciousness begins to grow I am my lover's heart I am my brother's keeper and also the keeper of the sister I've yet to know we're one and all sons and daughters with a legacy one of addiction one of pain, one of grief we point the finger to outsiders that surround us saying we're so not like them but that's a false-front belief all of us are addicts this I've learned to know all addicted to something or someone all with baggage we have to let go look at all the people you see the parade of people on the street some look fancy some look dirty inside they're all the same they're trying to be invisible and discreet no one wants to expose their secrets no one wants to have their sins laid bare no one wants to know the world is lonely that there are judges every where sometimes the light goes on in the attic sometimes what's up there lays undiscovered the dusty files lie unclaimed unrecognized and rarely seen the truth is that we all are addicts and if you think not you're lost more than you seem point the finger at the others at the problems call and label them what you will but the problem is in the attic and that its dark there and for some it always will be that way our problems are our ladders our worries make us whole our secrets are better shouted our weaknesses give us soul gather up all the broken people gather up the broken planet gather up and bring them to your attic see how a little light helps you see yourself and your relationship to it all and then you become a part of something and you become someone become the light that attracts a whole new world. Legal Copyright for this poem/work and also for this writer/author Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyright site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World Vote for this poem |
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