This perhaps may be a little deep in places,
and a bit more reflective for those who choose
to self-indulge upon your own demons and angels, so to speak.
I dedicate this collection to my Grandmother “Myrtle."
She always would tell me to “Go after the moon and then the universe.
The world will be waiting for you when you get back.”
I have talked about life nearing death
and the wisdom of my words ring on deaf ears;
mostly mine as understanding becomes harder
with each passing year.
… why don’t I listen?
I pretend to be another person I can never fully be,
and it pains me, cutting deep to the bone.
Though no blood is shed;
my flesh is stained with private horrors.
… when will I learn?
Other’s see me as I choose,
and cannot see or touch this realness.
A glass wall of sheerness is my protection,
keeping me from slipping into a frightening reality.
… where shall it all end?
A lifetime spent in fear, never knowing true friendships,
never knowing real love is my pitiful existence.
No one to blame but myself;
I know no other way.
… who am I, really?