•Theme: Conscience•
I've been asked if
My skin, my face,
Plays along with
The words I say,
And I cringe and
Hide the truth,
Because it never
Does, and it never
Will. I've been asked
If I liked jumping
From one puddle
Of secrets to another
Made by my heart,
Or my lover's and
I have agreed, because
I've always found a
Forever in things
You or him, or even I fail
Or cannot admit. I've
Been asked if I have
Played with my emotions
And that of others, and
I've hidden the scars
That have been formed
Because of the lies I have
Fed to my lovers. I've
Been asked if I deserve
To know the truth, and
I have always had a certain
Doubt if I should die tonight
Will I have deserved it
Enough.
Finally,
I've Been asked why I want
Your faith, or even mine
Into the warmth of my
Hands which guide
The thoughts from
My head, and I've
Never admitted the
Fact that I've always
Wanted to be someone
Who has been trusted
Enough to confide
In, gleeful enough to
Be adored, and childish
Enough to be taught; all
Because I cannot be those
Things when there is
Silence in my heart and
In the niches of my
Home, and those empty
Spaces on the favourite
Corners of my street.
I do realise, with a heavy
Stone withholding my soul,
That I am writing it down,
now,
For you to read, so you
Know that there are people
Like me, people who are
Afraid of themselves for
You, for they have lost
The competence to
Trust themselves. We're
Surviving, and so are you;
But oh, just a little differently.
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Presentation Credit: amy_theQueen