This poem is about how the bad choices you make can come back to haunt you. |
“Karma” Karma- Whatever you do will come back to you. What goes around comes around. My slashing, lizard tongue became my whip of a hand; An angry hand; tired and sickened by deceit and anguish; Anguish that embellished the core of the rotten apple I had become. A bad seed; nurtured by acid rain. Karma-Whatever you do will come back to you. What goes around comes around. I stand alone when I want to stand near. But it doesn’t matter because I have slithered my way into what I am. My scaly skin left behind on the rock that I scraped on all those years I claimed to love. I left them to bleed while I felt sorry for myself. Karma-Whatever you do will come back to you. What goes around comes around. Years were spent being a savior; saving people from themselves. I never really got anywhere; nowhere but here. So, I, the savior, began to nail them to the cross. I never meant for it to hurt; but the pain inflicted was inevitable. Karma-Whatever you do will come back to you. What goes around comes around. Still I devote my life to making up for the angry hands that bruised my face; sprained my ego. Why doesn’t it come back to me? I never started off nailing people to the cross. When I began to hammer it was after I broke free; It was after one of my limbs was torn from the cross they had given to me. Karma-Whatever you do will come back to you. What goes around comes around. I am not making up excuses; I am just fighting to explain. Explain about the tiny twists of agonizing spite that was spit in my face. I masked the reality in order to grasp the fantasy. It was a fantasy where karma was my friend. It was a fantasy where those I once strived to save would embrace me. They would embrace me and say, “It is okay. You’re not perfect.” |