Silent Narration

Another prompt, just another poem, but are these genuine feelings I'm showing? I think of past versions of my existence, changing with each season without resistance. But now I'm too fatigued to study myself, so leave me alone on a dusty bookshelf. Sitting upon the edge of unread distant shores, soul sighs, tired from being a misunderstood metaphor. Sometimes the inner child loves to run wild, try to be patient, he forgets how he once smiled. I can't keep blaming those ghosts from childhood, but it disturbs the mind when all I see is graphic blood. I'm trying hard to control these red mists of rage, to start a new chapter with new verses on a page. I search for avenues that lead me to chapters of purity, but this facade hides behind deep suppressed insecurity. Low self esteem massacres my confidence, I'm just a man who sometimes lacks common sense. My outbursts of slaughter are just a means for defence, apologise in advance if I caused any offence. Forgive me, I can never take back the sorrows I caused, but is that any reason for love to remain paused?  You won't see any tears, but they hide my fears. I've seen through the years that torment never clears. Encrypted musings of my heart hide behind pain, Sometimes the wounds reappear and still strain. I close every door to find silent solitude, but these devious demons begin to intrude. Ranting and raving as the Devil joins the queue, wanting to take me to a darkness that I once knew. Toxic vampires sucking at my bleeding empathy, compassion goes out of fashion lacking sympathy. I try to explain but my views only frustrate, after a while it seems my opinions are out of date. Then you wonder why I refuse to communicate, ignorance of my emotions isn't up for debate. Silence seems to be the best form of narration. No one is listening to the angst of my damnation. I'm content in the deep depths of isolation, don't summon my soul without an invitation. Silent One 23 March 2022