Broken Words

Broken words are forgotten in the silence of the past,
Another face awakens to the secrets that are wiped clean,
The message repeats itself as the voice grows louder,
And we are slowly becoming this rusted machine.

All out of enemies to place your mistakes on,
Stamping out the bumps in the road that you now take,
The grin that gave us away now locks us inside this barrier,
And all that is left are the tribes that have become too fake.

If you are who you say you are consider me your opposite,
Working on a masterpiece as the lines cross over again,
The saviour couldn't save himself let alone the rest of the world,
And these flesh wounds have become your only friend.

Missing pieces of an already incomplete puzzle,
Embracing the facts as time gets it's chance to run away,
Holding it up to the light as it creates this hazy sky,
Throwing away the torches used to brighten up today.

Drowning out the noises of an early departure,
Being torn apart at the seems of a life worthy of what?
Hating the things that revolve around the lies you tell,
Feeling the tension rise as you walk out of the room that grows too hot.

Sitting in a room alone knowing that there is someone opposite you,
The walls close in as you breathe in deep,
Living against a race that is supposed to be 'normal',
Not waiting until the rest of the world is asleep.

Don't think it's safe to go out 'cause this war is no where near over,
Gently escaping to the hollows to let go of it all,
Planning the routes that eventually lead to love and happiness,
And seeing the sacred scriptures carved into your bedroom wall.

Patience is a virtue waiting to be discovered by the residents here,
The crow follows you with the soul of the dead,
A little guardian angel has come forth for your protection,
This mortal skin of a person unknown is what the soul has shed.

Unable to speak as the memories of your past flood your mind,
Broken promises lie dormant in this mine field of uncertainties,
The signal chimes it's unwelcome applause once more,
Not establishing fact from fiction form the mind that holds no memories.

by Joanne Kearsey

Comments (2)

i love the first line especially...
Go raibh maith agat for that, Jo. Good to hear from an Irish sister. This is profound and painful. Best, Don