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Dark Poetry #3
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The Mirror Crack'd
| Dark Poetry #3 |
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The Mirror Crack'd |
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CSKpoet Senior Member
since 2002-07-12
Posts 845Island in Paradise 
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Viscous stench of darkness wraps bony fingers of death around my soul; it's murderous assassins hands skillfully clutching at my heart while smothering my will to live, strangulating my sanity, leaving a broken self image so hideously scarred that even I don’t recognize who it is that I see in the mirror. All hopes dashed; faith driven against the cold stones, trodden carelessly underfoot, the remnant pieces, those shattered shards, shredding to a bloody pulp my witless romantic Cinderella notions exposing more devilish schemes to re-write the script of my exotic dreams while I continue wearing rose colored glasses acting out the role as the “happiest woman alive.” All I ever wanted was to love and be loved; And now, having failed at every twisted turn enduring it all as years sailed by leaving my idyllic youth to rot somewhere in hell with corruption, mold and decay, where is there to go? The world goes on and on day after day. year in... year out... New faces appear....new dreams New songs to be sung... Those precious few who know me well listen and truly sympathize, wishing to high heaven I would do something soon before it’s to late to dispel impending tragegedy But after all the reasoning and pretty little words in a row are spoken.... I am left with all the dirty, overwhelming gory details Of what to do.... where to go... How can I survive this time? I’ve no strength for the devil! Laughter wafts through my windows, the busy street below is so unconcerned with my personal soap opera. There is so much yet to do! Even so; How would I gather all the broken pieces and put them back together again? Ask Humpty Dumpty, I know of no kings men. Do you? For once the mirror is cracked, there is no putting it back to its former reflection of glory. Once cracked, always cracked.... leaving a garish image crying secret tears drowning in despair of what might have been... Just unsightly dust to be swept under the rug and forgotten. Poetry is: |
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| © Copyright 2002 Cheryl Stewart Koomoa - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Chameleon Member
since 2002-08-07
Posts 99Australia |
That some what a ride through hell.... I liked it  the images will stay with me when iam trying to sleep tonite. |
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wranx Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689Moved from a shack to a barn |
Cheryl, This was a great, (I'm sorry)...reflection on lifes' situation. I've always liked this kind of retrospective work. It is what I attempt and seldom accomplish. ~wranx The shortest distance between two points... |
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CSKpoet Senior Member
since 2002-07-12
Posts 845Island in Paradise |
Chameleon: It stayed with me a long time and sleep was no friends of mine...thanks for the read! snd the comment wranx: thankfully this is about 2 years behind me during my now finished marriage and abuse..I thought this poem to be a ranting expulsion of bitter words and hurt... I guess it acheived the dark status and made sone sense to you..thanks for the read and time to comment. aloha, Cher |
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