Tuesday, May 6, 2008

The Accuser of my Tattered Soul

From me, you ripped my soul.

My soul is in tatters because of your desires

Desires of yours, selfish ones, took my sense of self away.

Away, I drift in the wind with my pain.

Pain that I do not want to face.

Face is something I do, but deny.

Deny, I am in pain and hurt.

Hurt is what I feel.

Feel with no feeling what I do.

Do what to do?

Do I want to go on?

On to face my pain and anger.

Anger that I bury.

Bury my anger at you is what I do, but why?

Why do I bury my anger at you who wronged me?

Me the victim has become the accuser of me.

Me, the accuser is myself.

Myself did wrong, and I cry for my mistakes.

Mistakes that never happened.

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