It was a poison that started
In the pretty pastel paint
Coating the plastic bricks
Of a kindergarten classroom
That smelled like melting crayons,
Markers, and the teacher's cloying
Perfume that wove itself into my hair
Like strands of silver and gold.
.
The world was a danger and the words
That cut through it were knives.
They were cold, metal blades
Pressed against my throat
With the promise that they
Could make me bleed it all away.
In a snap then, I turned into something
That was detestable to the world
Of dangerous words and knives.
.
I don't mean it; I don't ever mean
The thick silence that pours from me
But I wonder if it would feel better
If I could mean it like someone else.
Like how they think I intend the quiet.
Would it feel better if the words
Didn't exist like plaque behind my teeth?
Would it feel better if the silence
Came through the gritted teeth
Of a stubborn smile?
.
Would it feel better if I spoke the silence
Obstinately, purposefully, cruelly
The way they are so sure I do?
Would the shackled thing weeping
In the center of my chest be free
If I could just be the bastard
They believe me to be?
What I wouldn't give to select
Something other than silence.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
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Comments (4)
The unsettling atmosphere of the first stanza was incredibly well crafted and gave such a strong anchoring image for the rest of the piece! Well done, Silver!
Very deep, it’s very powerful.
Ouch. This cuts deep. Even for your poetry. I hope you're feeling okay? Or at least better after writing this. It was a powerful piece though and my very real reaction to it, that I physically felt my jaw tense up and felt a knot in my stomach, is a testament to the skill you have.
Good work… love the ending