Deception's Hold

 

There are times when I hold on too long
to a careless grasp that would rather let me fall
down into the dark ditch from which I thought I could
step out of, but now I realize,
I can't alone.

Every day is another chapter to this story I live,
a forgotten tale, a dragging scene melancholy to
a rambunctious audience; if only they had
less expectations - more blood, more game,
but I am not a gladiator.

Past isn't present, how could it then be future
filled with haunting editions of the same
memories replayed through time on a
continuous basis though I am still young
with tomorrow ahead of me?

The pressure of burdens upon burdens,
lies upon lies, a scolding upon another,
and all for a single mistaken breath
we draw knives leaving me to wonder,
can they see my blood?

I bear the bruises born from smiles of the
jester's, the king's fool and entertainment,
but hark his intelligence because he does
know like I how to fake amusement, merriment,
and that laughter so many trust.

Staircases [often] spiral to a destination above,
but the one behind the bark of my ribcage
stretches in endless chaos to someplace
unknown, somewhere I cannot see
and therefore cannot reach.

What choice do I have if I choose to inhale
the next gentle wave of breeze, the new, fragrant
roses blossoming to kiss the fair sun than to
let go of the hand that scars my cheek
and take the hand that helps me stand?