Dark Soul
By: Emerian
If the world was as dark as my soul... but it isn't, I'm isolated
What a powdered, pink mother gives birth to is all her fear of death.
But we aren't scared anymore, are we?
A childhood of fear has turned into hopelessness, helplessness, finally fearlessness.
We are strong aren't we? We are jaded and mean. We are heartless and rude.
Sometimes I cry at the things I've done, for loving myself, for doing what I want.
Where do I go to get rid of the guilt from that house with the white picket fence?
I try to drown it in all types of poison. Torture to my body and soul.
But there's no hope at last I'm dying from it. The guilt of my mother's past.
*Published in "Honesty Awakened" (ISBN: 0-7951-5132-2) 2002.
*Published in a spoken word CD of same title.
*Published in "Theatre Of The Mind" (ISBN: 0-7951-5239-6) 2003. London