Sitting in disbelief feeling anger and grief,
as if I’d wish the worst or place a curse
On people with more worth
while I’m trying to turn a leaf.
Why would I hurt after I did desert
but now want to seek a connection reconnect
and forget the complications.
I’m winning the war with depression,
not now imprisoned, have spirit re-risen,
resumed the seat where life’s driven,
at present new with a ribbon ripping
through resolute to be ridden of a reaper,
repeatedly defeated and standing to beat back
to brake and crack out this black world all about me.
I’ve got eternal bouts about me
bound to break free these boundaries,
slowly heading back in your direction
but it’s out of my hands and that does my head in,
I’m not perfection,
misreading the text of a dream in which no harm’s done
but I’m speaking it with a lack of charm, dumb.
I wish the best for them,
need more wisdom in what I say,
your baby could be born on my birthday,
reserved for me but I'd share it proudly,
if born that day it'll have worth to me,
you misinterpret the words you read,
as if I'd want pain or hearts to bleed,
if I'd talked it out it would be different indeed,
you'd see it was warm and loving, what I wish for thee.
That broken thread I want to mend
as I ascend from the black, never ending,
now again I’m on the gain
playing and winning the game,
I’m a fighter with more fiest than can be,
forever feisty to fight free and free I’ll be.
Stupid to say it and I'm sorry,
but know you missinterpret its means,
MLK didn't have this with his dreams,
that's a joke out of nerves it seems.
I'm still the me you'd see,
when you see, if you do, I'll say sorry.
Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2019