The Guest from the Past

This place in my memory

Never was as I see it;

The words I hear echoing

Were by Time paraphrased;

/

The nostalgia I feel

Half-dreaming up, half-remembering

My past is but myself

Trying to make peace with me;

/

There were things that I treasured,

A few people, who loved me,

There was a house to call home

And a county – my own;

/

I’ve been running for years

From the routine some call happiness;

This nostalgia I feel

Is the gap between myself and me

Worthless

The devil of my very own,

Destroyer of all things I build,

With just one one word

To say to me,

“Worthless”,

/

Sat on the throne of my broken bones

Wearing the crown

Of my lifeless dreams,

Immovable like a love-less heart,

And truth-less;

/

I laughed – he bared his fangs and sneered:

“Worthless”, he said, and something died

Dimming the light, which tried to shine

In me, but ultimately failed,

Always;

/

I cried – he cupped his hands and drank

My pain, grinning, licking his lips;

“Worthless,” he sighed, “worthless and weak,”

And stamped my mind

With bite-shaped bruises;

/

He stole each kindness I’d been shown,

Made a reproach out of each word of praise,

Crushed every petal of each flower

I had been given,

Sharpening their thorns;

/

In every mirror which I passed

He painted vileness untold,

“Worthless,” they echoed, “wicked and worthless,”

“A demon, just like him,”

“A monster!”

/

And every victory of mine

He made feel like an ugly loss,

Screaming into my ears, “you’re worthless,

No matter what you f***ing do!”

“You’re worthless!”

/

For years I listened and agreed,

And on my knees before his throne

Believed the lies his voice would speak

Echoing cunningly

My ignorance;

/

“Enough,” I interrupt, today,

“I am no more the little girl

Into whose heart one night you slithered,

And in whose mind

You built your stronghold;”

/

“I am no monster, I’m no demon;

No matter what the blind see in me;

I am not worthless, I’m not weak;

For your lies and tricks

I’ve gown too big;”

/

“I’ll neither blame you nor forgive you

For the way that I have lived:

You came because I let you in, and beat me

For I let you beat me in each battle, but the war

You cannot win – such is the Nature’s law.”

/

 I rise, and pick up from the ground

My heart, my mind, my tears, my laughter;

And with the sword of gold I hold,

I slay the king of the hell I thought of

As me,

/

And for the first time ever,

Breathe in

The Old Journal

You were such a silly little girl,

Writing lyrics for your voiceless songs,

Reading books for hours every night,

Skimming through the pages of your days;

/

You were such a lonely little girl,

Lonely, when, surrounded by your friends,

And engrossed in senseless teenage laughs,

You envied the ones who merely smiled;

/

You were such a greedy little girl,

Greedy for long trips away from home,

For strange stories told by wise shamans

And for dreams that would bring them to life;

/

You were such an ugly little girl –

No one ever told you otherwise,

No one ever looked into your eyes

And noticed just how beautiful you were;

/

Little girl, you were so many things,

You’d have  grown to be so many more;

How I wish that you were more alive

Than the dry ink in this old journal I once kept