I search for words that will not sting.
A memory in time that is not bitter.
Why is my soul so despairing?
My life has not ended, its beginning
Why do I not, grasp this gift?
Learn to live an honest existence.
Settle down have a few kids,
Get that white picket fence and....
Live life again.
Oh wait, I had all that,
I let it go for alcohol and pills.
I lived vicariously through others.
Allowed them to abuse me,
Sought their approval.
I lived shamelessly,
Unwilling to change,
Until I was an imitation of me.
Until I was insane.
I’m back again,
Slowly turning pages of time.
I will write out my contempt,
In aged, perfection,
A writer’s rejection, of self obsession
Copywrite Melanie Rae 2010