when will I able to forgive myself
To bring out the capasity from a worn shelf
You know the one in need of repair
The one in a corner in need of care.
With creaks, groans and rust all about
Piled high with plenty of doubt
Still strong it stands a trusty shelf
it carries the shadows of a former self
Locked away in a fragile heart of glass
With breakable memories of a shattered past
It's unstable wabling with an unsteady gait
Burdened with poison, resentment and hate.
A darkness surrounds this pile of rust,
like a cancer that resembles mistrust.
The Unforgiveness is the root of neglect
Emotions that consume gone unchecked.