My Fault

Aside

Maybe, maybe it was.

My too big fingers twisting and turning

trying to fix what was not yet broken

and in the process breaking

Shattering the tiny but important pieces

and in my ignorance continuing thinking

that I was getting results

the oil glistening and painting everything

shiny and beautiful and perfect

when in reality it was lubrication for failure

even in the end as I grasped and shoved

pieces here and there trying to make it whole

I realized that it was me that opened the hole

and now it is broken

Broken, and maybe it’s all my fault

for trying to fix something that wasn’t broken

I Found Myself

Standard

I strike the first blow and the mirror cracks

A small lie, like a drop of food dye 

the lie coloring the crystal waters of my life

like a stain clouding the waters

I strike back, a counter of self hate 

punishing myself for failing myself 

and hurting myself with the hating of myself

The battle rages and the battle field of my heart 

is splattered with mud and misery and a

choking smoke of confusion hangs like a damp 

curtain coating everything 

I circle myself, my body a mirror wreathed in smoke

baptized in hate and sweating bitter failure

I wield words like a sword master, hacking with a lie

and feinting with an ego booster only to sink my sword deep

and twist with hypocrite. 

Words like machine guns shatter the silence as they shatter

my bones; traitor, pretender, user, manipulator

I try to defend with searching, trying and hoping 

but they are torn away like paper houses in a typhoon

I scream my victory, the blood still pouring from the cuts of

worthless and No one loves you

consumed I stab and stab again with hypocrite

Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite 

the blood fountains from the gaping wounds 

a blood mist consuming the air and leaving nothing

I laughed at myself, hysterically my eyes demonic

the blood pools underneath me and congeals but I 

just won’t die so I laugh, each convulsion shooting red failure 

into the air and coating me

I shake myself and scream at my laughing self

holding the mirror and crying at the eyes crying at me

and carving valleys of shame through the grime 

and falling upwards and splattering my face

I coughed and reached for myself, 

my small fingers reaching for me and hoping for me

my eyes begging, pleading and bleeding for love

needing me to love me and heal me

I look at myself and I see myself in myself 

my eyes are calling for me and I am just so tired

So tired of hating myself and hurting myself because 

I can’t be what they tell me and so I abuse myself 

to make up for not being able to be myself

But I am tired of not Loving myself

So hold myself and whisper to myself words

Healing words that mend the rending 

I whisper Poetry, and Sing and God and Love 

and Journey and Mercy and Live and Be free

and I hold myself and whisper in my ear 

I love You and I accept you and finally I die

and I become myself