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Undeserved Gift
by Shonda Chrissonberry
As a gray cloud of hate
shrouds my heart,
I amuse myself with the
petty desires of a newborn raindrop
cascading to its delicate death.
A drowsy, dismal array of
mystical visions that only
darkened my voyage,
and murdered the last shred
of peace existing throughout my
withering spirit.
I am the lonely prisoner
of a soul
lost within itself.
No where to lay its anguish to rest.
No one to burden its weight against.
Violet colored confusion
resides somewhere deep
inside of me.
Am I to carry on this
forsaken journey deemed life?
I must somehow shed
this curtain of skin
smothering my ambition and
erasing my wanton urge to succeed.
I wish to be whole again.
Whole again.
Just as I deserve to be.
As I someday will be.
Forever dwelling on the avengeful past,
lavishing up its delusions and
detailing it very need for power.
And I will cry myself to sleep.
Floating in my dreamscape paradise.
Feeling nothing but hope.
Receiving nothing but slants of love.
I will triumph over my hidden demons.
Chasing them away.
Locking them tightly into the hell
I have perceived for so long.
A gift of hell given to me.
And now I pass it on to you so graciously.
04/09/1995 Author's Note: old wounds are as hard to forget as jaded lovers
Posted on 01/15/2005
Copyright © 2025 Shonda Chrissonberry
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ava Blu on 01/16/05 at 02:32 AM Yes, old wounds seem to take forever to heal, if they ever do. I enjoyed this. I do hope that you find some joy to write about though. I will keep you in my thoughts.. =) |
| Posted by Mark Maxey on 01/17/05 at 03:11 AM yes...writing out our thoughts helps so much in our processing of emotions...great job |
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