Tuesday, October 9, 2012

The Finale

You played me
            Like a fiddle.
Like a spider plays a drum … or its last meal.

You took an optimism as yet unmatched
            And gave it cause to doubt.
The remnants of happiness,
            No longer found in the scrap bin,
                        Have been thrown out with the trash.

You’ve placed me, far from the smilies of my past,
            Into a daily desire to simply post, “FML.”
Normalcy has left the building,
            Triggers past elicit no outbreak of expression on this face.
Smiles are fleeting, and infrequent.
            Mainly due to the absence of trust or hope,
But, also because of the slipping familiarity.
You’ve taken the assurances of my past and laid them bare;
My days are empty.
My nights feel numbered,
            And dreams elude my memory when I wake.
And what to do now that all hope is lost?
            Feel nothing.  Be no one.  Reside nowhere.
Your platitudes belie themselves, your attempts fail, and you stagger.
            What would you have me do for you?
Are you now on the same path you created for me?

But, TRUTH …
            My future was always so marred
                        You are not the first,
                                    Though I sincerely hope, the last …
To torture my existence, yet again, with your games.
            Games that are selfish, and hurtful,
                        Contests already cheated and corruptly won …
                                    Games have no place in the atmosphere of ONE.

The One of Salvation, Christians may call Him thus,
            One God to save all of us.
The One of Nature, when male And female meet;
            She is much more harsh and Her challenges not so sweet.
The One of Love – if such exists …
The one duality we all pretend at, but miss …

If all the world is a stage,
            And we merely play in the acts
At what point do the backdrops matter,
            Or the painstakingly designed costumes and set?

I cannot live in a world so colored
            That people are merely 2D characters with scripts prewritten.

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Please critique my poetry; I am not bashful. Thanks for your feedback! Melissa ;-)