I feel things,

since living dark realities

a childhood

without scars,

yet, somehow beaten,

the foundation of

a quiet turmoil

always is that centering

point of personal fear.

 

In our society

we question judgment

public scrutiny,

filling the airwaves

is a certain attractive

seduction

meant to take our minds

away from our own

persecution.

 

Those silent moments

when the mind

allows the heart to breathe

there’s a sudden tightness

strangling physicality

that does have a pulse,

a reminder,

a constant of the human condition

within the framework

of some individualized society.

 

I cannot seem to walk away

from the burdens of my past,

yet,

the minds around me,

voices mouthing advice

seem to forget

or perhaps overlook,

this reflective nature

is the fuel

of a precarious

walk along the edge.

 

I would wonder

how long this loneliness

can exacerbate

my owned recall

of every single

tumultuous

moment in my life

when all

circumstance

overwhelms

a more seemingly sane

stance.

 

I would take a chance

on letting go,

if only I understood

the purposeful nature

of forgiveness.