This spoke to me ... I used to scratch ransom notes into my skin As if somehow I kidnapped me from myself, And we could be beautiful. So I could pay on marked compliments to the parts of me that needed to believe I am worth something. I was not like the other kids who practiced smiling on pieces of a kindness The same way they practice kissing on pieces of fruit. I fought the urge to sharpen my laugh on the pain of others And learn to breathe as I trained my will to operate heavy machinery of my lungs. I buried rage as if planting fields Of revenge, That would one day need harvesting. Watched the ground bleed finish lines towards me as if begging me to Be done with this. I carried prisons in my veins That I prayed one day would would riot. My body was an office building My blood cells were workers Who had their jobs I often wished for the fire alarm inside me that I could pull I could send them all rushing outside To send them in the glowing repriveof an inferno But I never did This is how I learn to smile By refusing the seduction The easiness By sitting at their deathbed Section glasses of water To loosen reason for my anger from the dry throats I learn to smile at the funeral of each individual fury Is not enough to bury what hurts We miss eulogies it The flowers up on the headstone and remember That we once requested to understand it We can haunt ourselves with never knowing Or we can Smile when we satisfy ourselves with knowing why.
Posted on: Fri, 25 Oct 2013 01:29:30 +0000
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