I don’t think this is necessarily finished, but it’s a different style of poem and I am somewhat proud of the ideas it represents and how it’s turned out. So I’m posting it prematurely, more to come later (maybe).
if i stand so straight and so tall
my life will be a mirror
a mirror of what i project, all the while
i shrivel, twist, contort
inside. with no one to hold me up
and yet so many to hold on to
so many hands
like tiny baby fingers, tender, innocent
turn to talons of want and desire, of greed without control or regard
when i come near
so i wall myself in
nobody can reach me here
not even me.
and i cry, cry because i know
the longer i stay here, the more i lose, the more i miss
the more the sun burns me with its heat and its brightness when i rise
so it pushes me back
back where i came from
my secret cave, alone
safe, but unwanted
it’s too hard to always take responsibility for myself
let the world see a glass window instead of a mirror
look in, look see, what do you find?
all the ugliness you thought couldn’t exist here
all the selfish thoughts, confusion, misplaced.
do you accept it? or are you overwhelmed
will you, like everyone else
tell me to put that back where it came from
covered up, behind close doors
nobody wants to see you now.
you must be beautiful
a lie, but a beautiful lie
stretched out across the decades until it becomes you
and you wonder where you went
or if you are
because you died inside
without light, without people without hope
you died but it’s time to come back now
i have your hand
even though i can’t take my own i have yours
and i am never letting go.