You painted your abusive hand against my authentic tear.
Shattered my palace of solitude into trust issues and desserts of emotion.
Reconstructed heaven to be a place of misgiving light, and earth an elixir of hypnosis.
There are no gods sometimes, and sometimes we have to be gods, as imperfect as we are.
I might have to race the rain but I’m falling, harder than Gods promise to me, how could God promise me company, but deserts me at my imperfections.
Taking my perfect black, rusted, crushed halo to the pawn shops to see if I get my self love back, I just wanna love me at the end of this bent knee sending energy to an empty sky, or painting my sun with my tears of gloom only shining down depression.
I just wanna love me til the falling of sunrise, collapse of waves in the ocean, peace in the fire, nothing left in the air.
I wanna look in the mirror so I can say I love you and I respond I love you too.
Poetry
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You’re a very good poet. Your use of symbolism, the way you articulated the pains of abusive situations and the uphill climb to heal from them, is magnificent! The pawn shop portion created a very vivid image for me, as self-love is so important and it’s hard to get it back once you’ve been cut down.