I wrote this poem a while ago, but I'm just now getting around to posting it. I hope you enjoy it!
Shadows take over slowly,
dripping into your heart of hearts,
leaky faucets of poison, steaming sulfur.
And the sun sets slowly if you let it.
You might call me a girl of shadows;
my life is mine,
but my eyes are not my own.
The first one came, sneaking and deceiving,
with yellow teeth stained from centuries of lies.
Stabs into my heart had already scarred,
so I let him in, to tell me I was beautiful again.
Memories flash like lightning,
but I could still see the girl running,
the wind blowing grass around her feet,
the blending shades of sky into sea,
and the intoxicating scent of being free...
and then there were lies,
whispering the memories into dreams.
Hurts piled on pain,
corpses piled on more,
as loss and heartbreak ruled again.
So I let them in, one by one,
to forget about the life I had undone.
Shadows took over slowly,
dripping into my heart of hearts,
leaky faucets of poison, stealthy sulfur,
and the sun sets slowly if you let it.
You might have called me a girl of shadows.
My life was mine,
but my words were not my own.
Spewing, spitting, vomiting the blackness.
Hatred, bitterness, revenge,
dribbling out from between my lips,
Lust, jealousy, self-pity, pride.
Success came--in pushing everyone away,
but no, I was never alone.
And then he came,
and he swept me away,
for he cast the darkness out of me.
And I felt them jerking, and kicking, and screaming,
and hating, and lying, and gasping.
But I felt a memory, of grass and wind and sea,
and I knew that this man was what it meant to be free.
Free from my demons, at least.
But I was empty, and cleaned and gutted house,
home of a broken past and a taste of hope.
So I followed, and I knew
that I would follow this man to the end of the earth and back,
if he wanted me to.
So I followed.
I followed him to the ends of my world,
and I heard him.
I heard the things he said,
and I thought, "Surely not, I cannot survive,
should this Man die."
But I followed.
And I watched this Man,
my Messiah, my rescuer,
die.
And I could not save him.
I could not do anything.
I could not pay him back, for what he did.
I could not say one last goodbye.
Or thank you.
But I watched him,
I watched him suffer and love and die.
But I tried.
I tried to do anything.
Spices and fragrances,
knowing it was all in vain.
I could not say I'm sorry,
and I could not move the massive rock, like death,
that would stand in my way,
mocking me, my failure, my inability...
but it was gone, and so was he,
so I stumbled away,
hardly daring to believe.
But then he came,
he was there,
and he rescued me,
from me.
And he told me I need not worry,
he would always be with me,
and I would never again be lost and alone,
and one day soon, I'll be following him home.
