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by Miles Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #1511275
One of my more advanced poems, this was in it's 5th rewrite
I wake to a dark room just after midnight. 
Eyes tired and watery search the darkness. 
Furniture in the room appears as dark shadows. 
Pale memories of what they were, what they aspire to be.
One glance at the clock and I know it's
going to be another long night. I lay down
to try and sleep again.

It's just before two in the morning.  I wake
bathed in sweat.  My body trembles like
a twig in the wind.  I rub my eyes and only
succeed in pushing stinging sweat into them.
When will this end.  A desire haunts the
recesses of my mind and won't let me sleep. 
It holds my heart in it's powerful grip and
won't let go. 

It's almost half past three when I wake
again.  I'm more aware of the unspoken desire,
a fierce need that exists within me.  It cries for
recognition, it wants acceptance. 
A beautiful nameless secret that wants out.
I drift back to sleep while attempting to
convince myself it’s not important.

It's right before five when I wake sobbing.
The implications of desire are too much. 
My unconscious mind realizes as truth
what the waking self won't accept.
It’s important.  But, giving in would be
more than I could bear.  No more secrets,
no more masks, afraid of what it means to be me. 
No one must ever know the hidden truth that yearns
for expression.

I lay in bed at quarter to six staring into the
dark room.  I have no more tears to shed. 
Masculinity, sarcasm, and anger are all
stripped away.  With no defenses I lay in
bed naked before myself.  The truth I hide
so well stares back at me.  There are no lies.
How can I go on knowing that I’m not
what I seem to be?  The fear of ridicule
sends me screaming into my pillow. 

In a few moments the alarm will begin
beeping.  Alerting me to start getting ready
for the day.  Another night has gotten away from me. 
Soon I will start going through the ritual of presenting
myself to the public.  Dressing up in lies that are
presentable to those around me.  Quietly crushing
the truth that lies just under the surface..

© Copyright 2009 Miles (miles.crowson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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