Sometimes there’s no words to speak,
No platitudes that will soothe the soul,
Just the things that were happening,
Were overlooked because you never said.
That the monster can smile and coo and convince
Everyone that you’re the one who’s wrong.
Honied words and simple touches given
As long as eyes were watching.
Alone,
The Ogre returns, spite filled and cruel
In ways no human would ever consider
Yet is repeated daily until there is nothing else.
Freedom is a glint of light through eyes tight shut
Because it’s nothing but a dream of death.
Picked out, considered, honed, kept close and secret,
Biding time until the Ogre sleeps again.
Begging for help in Old Ways, too dark to admit to
Given what was asked for in the quickest way
Freedom arrives, destroys, tears apart, scours,
Leaves destruction so harsh, nothing can survive.
Death, returns, holds out a hand, a choice to take or not,
Words promised return, ‘Hold on, don’t give up now’,
Turning away toward the pain, the hurt, the unknown
Better than the silence of nothing, feeling the heat of life.
Alive but broken,
Freed but collared still,
Sick but living at last,
Standing still with all my iron bones.
The ones the Ogre couldn’t break…..
ghosthare22 