28/02/2013

HOPE (PART THREE)

Unsure of what is there.
My heart and mind are at odds.
Both want to be right.
But there isn't room for both.
It does not matter who comes out alive.
Either way I will remain damaged.
The pieces are spread across the floor.
A puzzle that will not go together.
Down on my bloodied hands and knees.
Crying out for salvation.
Someone save me from myself.
I'm afraid I will do myself in.
Without someone to believe in.
I feel so far away.
Disenchanted and disillusioned.
I am reaching out with broken hands
   on broken arms.
Attached to a broken body.
Housing a broken mind in my head.
Everything about me is broken.
I am broken!
Who will heal me.
Who will rid me of the poison 
   coursing throughout within me.
I am dying from the inside out.
I want to know just what love is.
I want to know just what truth is.
And why can't I seem to find any here
   in this world I am in.
Can you tell me?
Can you show me?
I do not know.
I want to know.
I need to know.
Hope is wearing thin.
Still, I am hanging in there.
Still, I am hanging on.
A little hope is all I have left.
A little hope is keeping me together.
When all else is falling apart 
   and coming undone.
I am not ready to give in or give up just yet.
I am not ready to die.
Even though everything is telling me to.
I may not know where I am.
I may not know who I am any more.
I may not know what to do.
I may not know what is going on.
I don't think it really matters any more.
As I sit in an empty room, in an empty house.
I try to forget it all.
But I know that is quite impossible.
I will forever be haunted by the spectre of
   of my own sin.
Choking me, suffocating me, but still breathing.
So I will rise and I will rise again.
It's all  can do.

SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY-(28/02/2013)

No comments:

Post a Comment

I'd love to know what you think of this poem.