Sometimes I lose faith in You. I debate within myself and choose to hate You. I wish I could escape You and bathe You in a pool of my tears.
Your eyes see all and Your ears hear whispers of my fears. Three days ago, I left my halo at the gray door. Happy days close. This ain't what I came for. Little do they know that I've felt forsaken.
I'm running out of patience. No longer gracious, which creates an excreting fragrance of guilt. Guilty of humiliation. Guilty of disappointment. Guilty of a broken heart. Guilty of hopelessness and painful scars.
I wish You knew how it felt to be me. I wish I knew how it felt to be free. I wish You could experience these things multiplied by three. I'm searching for a release.
Take Your hand and wave it across my face. Take me to a place, which transforms my frown into a smile. Good fortune shares similarities with the blaze of the sun. It shines for only a while.
And I'm staring at the screen, wondering what, from my mind to the keys, I'm going to relay. I've moved to the screen, 10 feet down the hallway where I was starting at a blank page. Wondering what I want to say. A blank page is nothing. But it's much more than I'd really like to state. I'm disturbed by the things I've had the nerve to say. I have been hurt. My words remain close to my brain, preferring to stay.
For others, I have no sympathy. I am so empty. And I hate feeling this way.
Your eyes see all and Your ears hear whispers of my fears. Three days ago, I left my halo at the gray door. Happy days close. This ain't what I came for. Little do they know that I've felt forsaken.
I'm running out of patience. No longer gracious, which creates an excreting fragrance of guilt. Guilty of humiliation. Guilty of disappointment. Guilty of a broken heart. Guilty of hopelessness and painful scars.
I wish You knew how it felt to be me. I wish I knew how it felt to be free. I wish You could experience these things multiplied by three. I'm searching for a release.
Take Your hand and wave it across my face. Take me to a place, which transforms my frown into a smile. Good fortune shares similarities with the blaze of the sun. It shines for only a while.
And I'm staring at the screen, wondering what, from my mind to the keys, I'm going to relay. I've moved to the screen, 10 feet down the hallway where I was starting at a blank page. Wondering what I want to say. A blank page is nothing. But it's much more than I'd really like to state. I'm disturbed by the things I've had the nerve to say. I have been hurt. My words remain close to my brain, preferring to stay.
For others, I have no sympathy. I am so empty. And I hate feeling this way.
---EOB.
3 comments:
EOB,
Great spoken word piece. The last two paragraphs seem a little out of rhythm with the rest of the piece though. The powerful meter and slam suddenly shifts. It is almost like two separate pieces tacked together, though I can see how they are connected. Still, IMO, the self depreciation at the end is unnecessary :) Great work here. I look forward to reading more of your work.
Sincerely,
Jim Spaulding
Jim,
I just noticed your comment :) Thanks a lot for reading. And thanks for the compliment. I really appreciate it.
You're welcome:)
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