This poem represents a deep, dark aspect of my life that I struggle to cope with everyday |
The Past Of A Saint I tried and I thought, I had pushed you away But as time passed by, I stayed in place Fighting was futile, and so for you I wait Clung to the edge, not to fall far from your grace As an old saying goes, some things never change I never did and never could, learn from my mistakes Not on the first time, and not on the eighth Perhaps if I, was a man of faith I might swallow my pride, to break down and pray Away all the shame and regret, that leaves my soul stained My strength has been drained My patience is strained By a frustrating anger, that has since swelled into rage With every reflection, staring back in my face I have nothing to lose, everything to gain If only I could, rise above the pain I descend in life stuck, in dark shades of gray Sometimes to me, it seems easier that way The burden is mine, alone I bear the weight As my heart slowly rots, my spirit fading away I have given in to your misery, suffering and your hate Trapped by blind love, with no means of escape I have submitted, and am now shackled and chained This fate seems eternal, from your grasp I cannot be saved My pain is internal, each day is one more shred of humanity slain To you my demon master, I am no more than a slave And so my only peace, awaits at your grave Marked by a stone that reads my own name But who is to judge, the past of a saint |