EW (April 7,1977 / St. Paul, Minnesota)

The Broken Ones

The broken ones cut their feet
As they walk upon the pieces
Of their broken dreams
Ghostly figures in the shadows
Lurking
Forgotten and unseen
Wandering along the edges of
A frightening reality
In between two worlds
Not yet dead, but not quite living

This is where we belong
The broken ones
Where I am you
And you are me
Slaves to our demons
Our own worst enemies
Everyone dies a little each day
But we are already corpses
In an advanced state of decay

You can know yourself
Yet never realize
That you've denied yourself
Your own truth
You can search for the answers
Desperately
Yet still allow fear to hide from you
The proof
Of that which is your destiny
Believing you have come so far
When all the while you were just
Running in place
Leaving behind a trail of scattered bones
And a trail of tears upon your face

The broken ones suffer in silence
Our entire lives spent haunting ourselves
Heavy with the burden of existing
Each of us living within
Our own private hell

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Comments (3)

And, for give me for that misspell. Your poem 'The BROKEN Ones'...is great and well written. ~LSP~
Self-assessment and honest acknowledgement once examined from 'within' IS 'freedom'. A 'freedom' only those who have awakened know, has broken away from limitation. 'The Borken Ones' is a wonderful submission. Thank you, Ms Erika, for sharing your talent, insight and blessing.
Pregnant with pain and swimming in sadness yet rich in a realism that compels the broken to begin the process of mending and healing. Well done my friend!