I’m not waiting for luggage, I’ve lugged that on my back since birth – adding a new case with every transgression placed on me. At the same time, I’m not going anywhere; even my future knows I’m not coming. I’m in a period of waiting. Stuck in a pit of despair. Still unable to understand how I got here. Is this my own purgatory? Am I forever trapped in these loops of unchanging affliction? Am I destined for nothing more than sorrow?
My vines ripened in the shadows of hostility; crippled and broken beneath the weight of falling stones from the garden wall – a wall built to protect my beauty but instead it only leaves blemishes on my once vibrant exterior. Part of me lays on a plane of death; brown and gone beyond repair. The other lays on a plane of half-life; greening to yellow and still fighting to strive.
Raised to be strong, to fight the pollutions of bad soil and tainted water but I’ve grown weak with every strike I take; still broken beneath the weight of that old stone wall. Unwanted amongst the garden; molested by the passers; raped of my flowers; nothing left but my bare, crumpling leaves – naked to the world, nothing left to hide the scars caused by the raging storms.
If you had asked me in the beginning, I would have told you I’d never be here. I’d never know the lies that broke the trust; I’d never know the pain that encases my heart and mangles my mind – leaving my thoughts to be that of Swiss cheese, full of holes that once were filled in spaces of my self-esteem but now it’s all just missing. The little holes fill with the gutsy-winds and whistle the sad song of my long lost soul.