In the End
I walk through the forest in the evening mist. The
rain
gently
weeps
through
the
trees.
A thousand times I've strode this path, now lost to the falling of the leaves.
Yet each step I take is a memory to me, as I walk through the recess of time.
Where adrift in this wood I will never be, as I search for my life's paradigm.
Yes, the rust on the gate bleeds red again, like
your
soul
as
it
drained
from
your
veins.
It drips from each frozen hinge to the earth, where all it touches it stains.
I placed you here on a dark winter night, on your cheek a kiss I gave,
and the white of your corpse like the glow of the moon shined bright as you lay in
your
grave.
The vines grow strong in this lonely place, where
for
years
they
have
hidden
my
shame.
Here I laid you to rest in this horrible way without even knowing your name.
Beneath the weeds, beneath the brambles, beneath a single red rose,
beneath a cold dark slab you lie, in a place where nobody knows.
Where the stone above you lies to all, for it bares another's name,
your motionless body your mother expelled and
for
this
she's
not
to
blame.
It was another place and another time and no one could know you came.
Now my mournful tears drip on your tomb, changing nothing, it's all the same.
So rest my sweet little bastard child whose life you could never live,
and in the end, I swear to God, to you my soul I will give.
09/25/16
Overgrown With Vines - Poetry Contest
A Broken Wings Contest
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016
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