Razor Sharp

04.01.98

It gleams, winks at me
whispers promises of anguish ended
tells me that something better awaits
than this.
I turn away, knowing the coward in me
can not place the edge where it belongs
yet...
any more of this and I might find strength
for this bleeds the soul dry
this accusation
these false titles
these uncaring people.
Or, is it me?


It shines, beckons me
tells of paths that so few take
yet so many wish for
this cessation of pain
this ending of the void 
that exists within me.
Ah, but nothing matters
but this emptiness that I am.
If I can not pick it up,
then at least I can build the walls
for honesty provides false ammunition
and I can bear no more shells.


It awaits, cries out to me
says that it is the ever elusive peace
that I know not how to find
here in my continual chaos.
Once, I put out fires upon my skin
to see if I could feel
past this frigid cold that encases me
but I could not.
Do I just not see what I do? 
Am I as false as she claims?
Do I even need to continue
this fucking farse that keeps me pained
bound to a life that always harms
and pierces my soul with brutal knives
slashing wounds upon my heart
that never fully heal?


But, it does not matter.
Only the emptiness that beckons.
Must build these walls yet higher
to hide the being that no one can love.



© 1998, Tara Tambollio