Stained

Some stains just can't be washed away.

Stained

There’s a stain on my soul,

I have scrubbed my skin dry and red, pleading deeply in my moments of solitude,

Stolen teardrops in the night cannot even wash you away,

For I have plastered this smile upon an unrecognizable face,

For I have laughed till breath came no more, and only found the stain to grow heavier after all is said and done

This heart grows sadder, this mind wearier, haunted,

Grasping at vague memories, I re-live the encounter up until it became a dream,

 

Dream? Wrong.

Nightmare. Correct.

 

Yet my consciousness was taken away, unable to experience the horror,

Unable to feel, unable to breathe,

But there were hands, many hands, and I could not push them away,

I could not speak, as it felt my lips were sealed,

I could not open my eyes; they too heavy like the everlasting stain,

 

Fear? Perhaps.

Denial. Certainly.

 

Here I stand, my feet sinking into the warm earth,

My roots wrapped comfortingly around my ankles,

A voice is faint, but endearing, lost, but sought,

She whispers, or cries,

And I apologize.

My other half, I had left, unaware

A many months later, I realized her warmth no longer lingered,

Her voice no longer heard,

Her absence sinks into my heart, my mind, my body in its entirety--paralyzing.

Now though I seek her,

As though it’s a game of hide-and-seek,

Praying that I might find her,

Praying that she can help,

 

Help me.

 

Again, the sponge is wet,

Again, the soap is white,

Again, I scrub and bite my tongue until I bleed.

 

What foul mess I have ran myself into!

I hurt, terribly.

I cry, silently.

I knew this would happen, I knew, and yet I pursued.

 

Stain, stain, go away,

Come never another day,

The old queen went to bed to rest her head,

And woke the next mourning.

Reviews

[Markymark]

Well Alice,

Certainly not something I am used to from you, I don't know if this piece is an actual turmoil ripping you in half, or just a write. The piece has a solid theme of remorse throughout. On the one hand, the reader might think it revolves around an event and decision that brings you guilt, heaviness, and all the trouble that goes along with doing something dumb, but, on the other hand it may be describing an inner turmoil that came about through no fault of your own, but something you acquiesed to. In either of the two scenario's you have been left with two personalities: Both wanting control, and the real Alice trying to decide which to extinguish or move away from. In any case, remember this: WE CAN NEVER UNDO what's already in history, but we can push on and rise out of the ashes. You know where I am...

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

That is certainly some deep soul searching there... mistakes are part of being human. When a mistakes takes root as a demon internal peace will not exist until you can find the key to exorcising that demon.

[Jibey]

The words flow out onto the page like a flood of scalding pain... I'm so sorry that you were moved to write about such turmoil but have to admit you do it effectively...

Maybe u need a hug.... Hug