Once the broken mind has healed (poem)

Once, the broken mind, grows older,
Pulling at death's cold, hard shoulder.
Cannot, mend the fence.
Nor, make good recompense.

For all I've done,
The lies I've spun,
And thrown away, such mighty love.

As I, unlovable, yet free,
Remember all, they did to me,
I gave you things, I never meant,
Our lives were cracked,
Were knarled and bent,
And so I changed it, pushed, and ran,
Completed all the world began,
And I became, all what I can,
Another kind of broken man,
The one who'll never stand as tall,
As when you laughed and smiled, at me.

When the pain starts again

So this guy said he'd ask around, if I needed any advice.

"I don't need any," I replied, "I've been here, before."

In fact, I was here every seven years, so far. The seven year itch demanded struggle or break up each time it passed. I'd made my first, passing session, which was a year of demons calling, demanding my obedience. They never made me yield.

Then, the second time came.

The throwing away of what you have, is always easier, when there's nothing about it, you want.

Trying and testing, each part's power, whether it be temporal, or eternal in nature, saw it crack down its middle, never to mend, but only to bend, then brittly break, never to stay in a familiar place, but to be smashed, and blown, away by the wind.

So much meaning lost, that it could've been fake, yet it doesn't really matter, now it's gone, forever.

The battle at the time, is also lost in the shadows. As the struggle, and the pain cannot remain in our hearts, as the memories of the start, and the growth and the gain, eternally marred just because of the coldness of its oldness.

It'd all, finally passed, and I was free again, in my soul. Now, all there was left for me to do, was deal with her. I'm always at my best, when I've nothing left worth losing.

Jealousy

It's all a matter, of jealousy,
And how, I hurt you,
Because you, hurt me,
And did it, in a way,
That everyone, could see.

How falsehood, and lies,
Kills all the good,
Despite grey eyes,
Disguised as everything,
I could ever need.

What, the fuck, was I supposed to do,
With promises that could never be honoured?
Nothing but howling, on the end of the line,
Promises, that became thin with time,
Which never could, be made good,
How easy it is, to change the rhymes,
As nothing, eventually materialises,
Promises, heaped upon themselves,
A way to gaze, through a future lens,
We stand, amazed, e'en hypnotised,
By promised pussy, lives, held high,
Then, nothing seen, as nothing's real,
Stealing all, you claimed to love,
When reality, denial, and waste,
Takes away, all feeling, left.

Moving, swiftly on.
Time to find, another sun,
We've been here, now, it's time, again, to run.
Old, Grey Eyes, versions, been, now gone,
Just leaves a hole, she used to fill,
Killed, all promises. Killed.
A tool of creeping, acrid death,
A gate, through which, the self can rise,
Slowly, friendly, crack through pane,
She'll come to you, ne'er back, again,
The free and lost, again, she'll find,
Promise life and love and will,
She'll take all that she wants.
Just hope and image,
Puzzle, cracked.
Don't be deceived,
She won't be back.
You're the shell,
Hollowed out.
Back to the hell, of fear & doubt.
For one so right, for one so just,
Dimmed dark, the light,
The curse, the dust,
The self, the self, your self.
The self, is all she was.