Poetry

No crown for me

PhotoCredit: searchinthesoul.tumblr.com

Is it the night, something about its still heaviness

that brings some of my favorite hymns to lips

Like all the other days, I have struggled to pursue a lighter side

dancing to beats only I can hear and singing words;

oh how I wish to feel

This loneness, she climbs me effortlessly

wrapping her cold, bare, full depth-ed fingers;

her merciless blot now visible, her atrocious intent upon my skin

I remember something in an old rugged song

and its words fall greatly into my broken soul;

something about laying down trophies and clinging to wood;

something about exchanging a cross for a crown

But there is no crown for me

There is no crown for me

I have long turned on a path to destruction,

and its vile has burrowed me deep;

its earth has marked my foot’s chest;

its sick shame has bathed me thoroughly

What haven’t I become;

consumed with a revolting desire for all that’s

wrong, worthless, un-repenting and utterly meaningless

I have lost myself,

more so gladly in the shadows of fleeting life;

careless of tomorrow and the pits where I will awaken to

I wonder where my mother went wrong with me; even my father

They raised a woman to be strong in her choices;

to be the judge of her actions;

to carve her joy in upright pride, and own her happiness

They raised a woman and taught her how to pray and not prey

They raised a woman,

not a shattered fragmented being!

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