Birth

I am a little dark mess.
My blood-filled arms harden into
an unmovable misery.

There is no new life here, she is death.
Poor are the blessed souls who take
her on.
Her hair is like a curse.

I am collected. Like a prescription;
a new car; a limited edition stamp.

Suddenly the light changes
and the merriment is a mockery of
my trauma.
If she was here I would smell her.
My heart feels silly beating by itself.
There is no rhythm anymore.

I am smiled at; squeezed and dizzied.
They can't know the
terrible things I hold inside me.
They mustn't know why
she left. Maybe they
can see the poison
in my throat? Will it seep
from my belly scar?

I will hide it forever and
never tell. They can't know
the truth of me, the
darkness that coats my
skin like an armour, like
a birthmark, a messenger
to all who try to peel it off:
she is foetid, she is cold,
she is wasteful.
Leave her alone, leave her alone.

Reviews

[Patient Poet (Yos)]

I will hide it forever and
never tell. They can't know
the truth of me, the
darkness that coats my
skin like an armour, like
a birthmark, a messenger
to all who try to peel it off:
she is foetid, she is cold,
she is wasteful.
Leave her alone, leave her alone.

Anna - thats such a heartbreaking lines , no you are not wasted although you feel like that sometime .... what happen is never the victim fault.... true friends will never leave you alone ..... Thank you Nicole for the reading request :) .... be strong Anna .... Yossi

[Jinx's Heart]

Anna, in your poem you put to words what I could not: "the darkness that coats my skin like an armour"
That has been how I felt for several years. How come I've never known how to put it? I don't know. Your writings are very clear cut, and dry. Sometimes something I envy in writers. I can't wait to read more.