Bottom of the Pile

A Poem by Melissa Ridge

Desire to be in company
Need to be in solitude
No one will understand
Feel lost and reckless
Free reckloose

Walking on tracks searching for light
Only to be hit with realization
And awakened from fairytale advice

Glazed over eyes
Breath on glass
On all four sides
They see you
They see it
And continue on
It's not your fault

Too long finger nails
Spilt ends
Marks of suppression, oppression, pessimism
Fall to the chasm pit
Battle scars of war
Fighting the invisible knight

Bitten,
See the swallow hole in the night
Be spat out into morning
Their mourning

Surrounded by echoes of forgotten appreciation
Truth smothered by lies
Jagged edges smoothed by ripped skin
Your ripped heart
Ripples out
To hollow cavities
Inside

Outside
A warning sign
Tattooed in wrinkles
On too young skin
"Just another file"