3am and my soul obstinate
Jumps out of a nightmare,
With a tough raspy voice
And a dark shrewd face,
I called onto God.
Hope carried to gleaming heights
And then dropped to tatters,
Gruesomely attached to reality,
Salty waters flowed down my cheeks,
Mirred with betrayal and hatred.
5am and my heart beats a-flutter
Churning and twisted with stabbings
I’ve cried it all out
Yet still numbness does not come
I loathe that it’s my body, my spirit
That takes this beating
I’ve known people worse,
They surely were readier than I was
For this pain, it can’t have been for me.
The tears don’t seem to know hope,
Trenches of flow show on my face,
I should have been prepared,
For it wasn’t a nightmare I had
But reality flashing beams of lightning in my face,
Crude and uncouth reality is,
A perfect comfort zone marauded
And these tears shall not stop flowing
And my heart does not stop beating
A staccato drum inside my body
Playing the melody of a fighting spirit
Ailing is not a state I’ll be in for long
But will my physical self be strong enough?
Do I have the strength to hold me together?
My will is weak, my soul longing
This worldly pain could be nothing
To compare to the battle that
Goes on, and on, and on inside.
See this Shawn keeps praising the wrong people. Poetry knows no self-modesty. Mister, clap for yourself!