Secrets said and knowledge bled
by Robert L. Bixler III
All thins add up and nothing makes sense.
Time flies all the while, yet I am still here getting younger.
Looking around me, nothing stays the same
As here I stand, dust piling around me.
The sky is clouded, and I’m dry.
I drink of my fluids, but my throat is parched.
Climb up the ladder to self-decadence.
You are the maladjusted beneficiary of my malice.
Last of a kind yet you were the first born.
Everybody tries to help, but you insist that they do not care.
The one’s who will destroy you; you pull closer in.
And the ones who will save you, you push out.
You know what is right; still you act in wrongs.
No one wants you, or so you swear. Yet, in front of you I stand.
Rejection is all you know; even though I have introduced myself.
When your heart brakes, you think you are strong, yet my shoulder is soaked in tears.
You tell me that you will never find love; but I promised my heart to you.
“Some Day I will find him” you say, and one day you will see me standing, arms open.