Tell It

Tell it like it is.
The pain, the pills, the apathy.
Heart blown to bits consistently
for all too many years.
They never cared.
Lovers, family, friends.
They never dared
to even try to
understand you.

A spark of inspiration.
Lost within a shape and form.
A moment of pure loving
now reborn. Into an age
that seeks manifestation.
To see and hear and speak.
Oh yes. The where and when
expounded on without
a reason why. But still,
there is an urge in you,
to spread your wings and fly.

Insistently absolving you
from living out their lies.
Thus condemned, you seek
to find another path of life.
You meditate, enduring
to transcendence. Then
find yourself just as you
were before.

The great light setting
sooner than the sun
upon Midwinter's eve.
Blaming yourself for
your sensitivity,
as sensitive as ever
that might be.

You can't go back, for
all the pain is driving
through your very veins.
Impassively, the experts
will apportion your remains.
Still missing the emotion of it all.

Those feelings living deep
within sensation. The loving
that abides through generations
of a great stupidity. For to think
without a base of heart
just stinks.

Tell it like it is.
And so you muddle through
the knotted mess
that generations left
to you to bear.
And yet it seems
your voice is never
really heard at all.

You skim through all
the old and new -
so much of nothing
spent within an intellect
that causes all the storms.
To find that mathematics
never balanced.

And all that you were taught
turned into lies. As reforms
of your future generations
tie their hands in fists
that hold a knife and
pierce your heart to bits.
Particles of scientific wonder
floating in a deadly wind
of atomizers.

And you finally realize,
that's all you ever really
were to them. Seeking out
another sin, you find no more
to bear. Then you begin.
To tell it like it really is -
for them...

? Michaelette ?

12/06/04
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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