It comes around.

This cycle
holding me captive
to watch the gory embrace
of past pains
and future gray.

Did you ever come to think that you
would keep us here
to watch the origami cranes
unfold
and burst to flames?

Dance to ashes in your palms
like jewels you've all but broken
shattered
across the distances
and spaces inbetween
your reckless thoughts.

And I can only be grateful for
the pain that you have caused him.
What you've done to him
is broken that thin pale skin
that held itself between the man
and vapor-image --
dragged your bladed words across
that naked and vulnerable flesh
to reveal what's trembling,
shaking underneath.

A boy
who needed this blood
to grow.
Who blossomed crimson all the more
from that ol'
"wise-beyond-your-years-ness"
all that bullshit
"being strong"
instead of being safe.

Oh what a show.
There goes that mighty fortress
into ruin.

From your rubble
(All your highschool glory
people who could only smile right back
and faces searching only for whats best)
comes your single blade of grass
like all the others
trying only for

elusive glints of sun.

08/30/2004

Author's Note: Is the word "Bullshit" explicit?

Posted on 08/30/2004
Copyright © 2025 Trisha De Gracia