The Final

The Final

A Poem by The Darkest Muse
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This poem is precious to me. A friend of mine on my myspace wrote it on his helmet and his gun (LOL he calls it Love...showin the Bad Guys Some Love he says) and he takes it with him across the sea far away and fights evil and terrorism and its always wit

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Where do I go when the shadows are too thick to think
Where can I hide if not inside of you
There's no where for me to give birth
To the screams that wish their names be held high
In to the thunder and lightening of my pain
I've held these knife wounds so long
They're thicker then anything I've ever had to survive now
The usual forget isn't covering them
And the time I've rubbed into them won't stop the bleeding
not anymore
If I close my eyes I see them
If I walk in the day light
They burn and remind me how hard I had to work
To allow myself the gift of breathing here again
But the sun reminds me always
That I do not belong
I do not know the ways of those so blessed as to not see
If they only had by eyes
blacked with my sorrow
Lost in the stars that fall and crash to earth there
In words I don't recognize anymore
I cry out my loss of sanity
None can save me here
None can protect me from the embrace that I long for
The final silent whisper of wind
That will send me to a shadow deep enough
To engulf me forever
And I'll never know my way out again
All I know is You.
You who reach through my dark slime covered thoughts
To see what light might still live here
You're so sure its salvageable
So sure it might be worth saving with ever lasting promises
But no one can save me from what my dead heart wants so badly
That final silent breath no one but I will ever hear
Final and announcing
Of an end that should have come years ago.

© 2008 The Darkest Muse


Author's Note

The Darkest Muse
This was to my husband...so much darkness that rolls inside me like thunder...he is the one that calms the storm.

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Added on April 12, 2008

Author

The Darkest Muse
The Darkest Muse

Mount Olympus, NJ



About
I am what my name says. I don't write poetry about flowers, birdies or cute little babies. My poetry is raw and bleeding, under floorboards and screaming. I write what I write because its a reflection.. more..

Writing