This is a throw back… reaching into the writing crypt for my very first publication credit. A poem of my youth that can still make me feel like I did back then. I’ve since realized, this is a symptom of our age. For many of us Dark Souls… we’ve had to come a long way to be comfortable with ourselves. For some of us, the path was to much to bear and we miss you dearly. For others, they are still trying to drown themselves in poison to be able to function in our world. For us rare few who have seen it to the other side, stay strong!
By: Emerian Rich
If the world was as dark as my soul…
But it isn’t, I’m isolated.
What a powdered, pink mother
Gives birth to is all her
Fear of death.
But we aren’t scared anymore, are we?
A childhood of fear has turned into
We are strong aren’t we?
We are jaded and mean.
We are heartless and rude.
Sometimes I cry at the things I’ve done,
For loving myself,
For doing what I want.
Where do I go to get rid of the guilt
From that house with the white picket fence?
I try to drown it in all types of poison.
Torture to my body and soul.
But there’s no hope at last
I’m dying from it.
The guilt of my mother’s past.
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