deepundergroundpoetry.com
Save me from Me
Distorted, Save me from this,
Save me from me, is all that I wish.
Infected with hate I've died now reborn.
Dissected, Dejected, I live in this storm.
I wear pain in my eyes, torn skin for my clothes,
Abused and Abounded in a field with a rose.
I ask for acceptance as I take this last stand,
With a heart of a child, just a shell of a man.
Swallowed by shadows under the trees in the snow,
Swallowed by life Frozen and Cold.
Happy but Sad, Starving, but full,
Just a man with no face that stands before you.
Take me from Me, and stop me from breathing
Rape my lost hope and bring me new meaning.
Take back my lies, I stole them from you,
Take me for me, I will bleed for the truth.
For what am I? Just a whisper that screams,
as you sell me a lie for the truth with sweet Dreams.
Take down the veil, Uncover gray Skies
the truth that we lost rest in pieces inside..............
Published 7th Dec 2013
| Edited 12th Jan 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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7th Dec 2013 3:58am
7th Dec 2013 4:15am
Anonymous
8th Dec 2013 7:16am
...sometimes we have to kill the old us to be saved and reborn again into who we really are. Freakin' clever how you wrote this, dkm. You are Amazing with dark ink....Xo
8th Dec 2013 6:27pm
Thank you so much for your comment. yes it is true sometimes you got to kill the old you to become alive. again thank you for your comment.
My goodness, the imagery behind this is exquisite.
“I wear pain in my eyes, torn skin for my close,
Abused and Abounded in a field with a rose.
I ask for acceptance as I take this last stand,
With a heart of a child, just a shell of a man.”
These lines strike boldly out with a dark, writhing image, with shadows that twist and taunt the empty place residing in the chest of the man standing with a rose in his fist. There is this moment as he peers down to the only color filling his world, that he contemplates crushing the beauty of it, snuffing out the hope that sits so trustingly in his grasp. And when he begins to fold in his fingers, when the blood of the rose spills like tears over his knuckles, it morphs and changes into a pumping heart, screaming for the past left far behind. When he has realized what it was that he has done, when the thumping haunts the empty landscape puddled under his feet, but all is quiet in his soul, he opens his eyes to red blushes, the sky falling in chunks of his own doubt.
This is a haunting tale that draws into the voids of places left in the cracks of self.
My only suggestion would be on the last line, changing 'Peaces' to 'Pieces'
“I wear pain in my eyes, torn skin for my close,
Abused and Abounded in a field with a rose.
I ask for acceptance as I take this last stand,
With a heart of a child, just a shell of a man.”
These lines strike boldly out with a dark, writhing image, with shadows that twist and taunt the empty place residing in the chest of the man standing with a rose in his fist. There is this moment as he peers down to the only color filling his world, that he contemplates crushing the beauty of it, snuffing out the hope that sits so trustingly in his grasp. And when he begins to fold in his fingers, when the blood of the rose spills like tears over his knuckles, it morphs and changes into a pumping heart, screaming for the past left far behind. When he has realized what it was that he has done, when the thumping haunts the empty landscape puddled under his feet, but all is quiet in his soul, he opens his eyes to red blushes, the sky falling in chunks of his own doubt.
This is a haunting tale that draws into the voids of places left in the cracks of self.
My only suggestion would be on the last line, changing 'Peaces' to 'Pieces'
9th Dec 2013 2:18pm
lol thank you so much and I will do that. I didn't see that error. I'm really happy that you understood this poem. this is why i write for people like you to comment. thank you so much.
9th Dec 2013 6:19pm