I wish I could leave me sometimes,
That i could walk away,
Far enough to stare at me,
To peer through my windows,
Into my vagabound soul.
My brown eyes seem to ask me,
What have I become?
All this distaste for the world.
Am i still beautiful?
All these scars from the things I did wrong.
Or just plain broken?
By the world’s ruthelessness.
Can i still love with these sharp fragments?
That which didn’t kill me.
Left me doubtful,
Left me fearful,
Left me bleeding,
Of the faith I see trembling in my clenched fists.
Of the dreams I see slipping through my wet eyes.
Of the hope that’s still swimming, in my Atlantic heart.
I wish I could hold me sometimes, tight enough to rearrange these turbulent pieces.
Into a mosaic of peace.