Jacen Cieno Poet Narrative

The Plague

After countless hours of thought,
of looking at myself 
through a microscope.

Dissecting the issues and problems
I see in myself.

I conclude that I am not more 
than a corrupted man.

My mind wanders,
filled with despair and darkness.
My heart voided,
the passion I had removed.

I am not good for anyone,
I am not worthy to be in 
the public's presence.

It would be better to ignore me
than to give me attention.

Maybe then I will see that it is me
that has the problems.

Issues I can only see,
after the fact of embarrassing myself.

Affecting everyone around me,
like a virus.

The room becomes grey,
a little more pessimism,
darker still.

Maybe I could blame how I was 
treated for countless years.

Maybe I could find some reason for
the way I am now.

But here I am,
after everything
is said and done.

My outcome is everything I wish 
it wasn't.

I do not want to be who I once was,
I do not wish to corrupt anyone else,
or to allow myself to affect those
I hold dear.

I must contain this plague that
is within my heart.

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