Frenemies, Mortal Wounds
A landscape of emotion. (Lyrical prose)
Circling a foreign land; one I once thought home.
Alone, surrounded by Frenemies.
I struggle to traverse this apocalypse of my life.
Will the landscape remain forever barren?
Fake smiles, fake words, whispers in the dark.
Whispers in my face shredded by tiny cuts in the back.
Subterfuge and confusion emerge as we dance.
Lost in the maze between trust and uncertainty.
The spirit rebels as the door to the gilded cage slams shut.
With cracked masks, broken words, and unlaced loyalties.
Mourning heart rages not wanting to see,
Years lost revealed through a fallacy of bonded faith.
Mortal wounds flow toward the alien river of hate.
Fighting against the flow for a way to let go.
Swirling darkness sucks me into the cave of despair.
Must dig deep into the mire to find that core light that guides me,
Wrestling to forgive myself — so forgiveness lives to find you.
Excavating us both from this cold war of superficial living.