Potential Gone
Trudge home
All alone
Can’t condone
What I feel inside
Can’t abide
What constitutes
My whole
My soul
My hope for
What is to come
What is to some
Their whole life
An allergy
An allegory
Of their whole existence
Their whole subsistence
In the long drawn-
Out years
Rolled out in front
Of you.
Dispensed
In time
A specious crime
Tempted to make
Tempted to sate
Your long lost dreams
That have been
Lent out
To someone new
To someone younger
Than you
And you are left
Empty
Left plenty
Of something?
Nothing
No excitement
No enticement
To that glistening,
Mist revealing path
No mirror reflection
Of your past
That blasted
And opened your eyes
To the addictions
To the fiction
In their bodies,
The illnesses
Created by God
As a folly
To our greed,
As a folly
To their seed
That created
A new psychosis
Ripping through
Bulldozing anything true
The crimes of insanity
Crimes of humanity:
Rapes, murder, assault
.
These are the genes
I wear
That have
Teared
Through my heart
Left at its core
A lust
For stardom
For brilliance
To save the world
To help wrap-up
Those curled-
Up within their
Beaten bodies
To help those
Whose
Luck turned
Inside out
Had cast a doubt
All this
Was my destiny
My reason
For being
For seeing
All the past
Destruction
Past obstruction
To happy
Functioning
Lives
But the poison
Has caught up
Within my brain
And drained
All the energy
Away
Paying
For the transparent
Sins of my past.
In my dark
Hooded cloak,
Soaked
Through
To my
Weary bones
Feet scraping
Across
The ground,
I trudge home.
Copyright © Gareth Heslop | Year Posted 2009
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