deepundergroundpoetry.com

Places Unknown

Its days like this I’d like to miss
Trying my hardest not to reminisce
But memories appear, and hair is pulled out by the fist
I’m trapped in my own personal hell
I hate reliving the life I have had
The cold, isolated days, my sick twisted past
Yes, I’m numb to the feeling; even I know that’s sad
I wish this wasn't my story to tell
The home I was born in never felt like a home
I was surrounded by love, but I was alone
Ever so slowly, sanity slipped from my dome
Things abruptly began to fail
My surroundings consisted of bright colored walls
Green in the Spring, burnt orange by the Fall
Or, were those memories all in my skull?
                                                I guess you’ll just never know
I remember the laughter which bled through my mind
The sickening smiles upon my face that weren’t mine
An out of body experience, even at the time
                                        I’ve went far too off topic, but oh
Well, here is where the rhyming shall end
And I tell you the story that most cannot stand
So, sit back and relax, and lend me a hand
                                    As I tell you this story, here we go
Growing up with a rapist was never a good time
Being surrounded by alcoholics who always crossed the line
Would you look at that, I guess I’ve just lied
                                 Because I’m still rhyming away
I’m being quite vague; I can’t promise I’ll stop
But talking about where I’m from brings up all kinds of knots
Lodged deep in my throat that I pretend I forgot
Would you look at that, the structure changed?
My bedroom is white, filled with rainbows and clouds
It’s lets me remember I’m still human somehow
My sheets are zebra print, and soft as cotton
My rug, well, that part was forgotten
Growing up I was always spoiled rotten
And I guess that’s the role the razor played
It didn’t treat me as if I was any different
I’ve always been weird, and artistically gifted
I guess that’s thanks to my mother, and all that she did
Dear lord, this has gotten out of hand
This is so much longer than I planned
But if you want, keep reading away
Though I have little more to say
Where I’m from was the question, at least I suppose
At this point I’ve forgotten, but that’s usually how this goes
All I’ll say is I’m from a bitter-sweet place on Earth
Placed beneath the slick gravel, and disguised by the dirt
My body hovers over the souls that lived before me
And there’s no other place that I’d rather be
From
Written by ShaienneMachale (Ladazia Jackson)
Published | Edited 10th Jun 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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