394. My Greatest Sin

I wish that I had been born,

With just the right type of skin.

I wish I knew how to make it work,

When I just don’t fit in.

I try so hard to look like them,

And duplicate their ways;

Yet no matter how hard I try,

I feel so unseen in their gaze.

I wish I had a way to make,

Things work out in the end.

To make my form a better fit,

And no longer have to pretend;

But I fear my fate is as set,

As the very skin I reside.

Born too thin to weather on,

Or remain long by your side.

I blame myself for everything.

For being born unfit.

For being a burden to everyone,

And being too selfish to quit.

For wanting what I know is wrong;

Wanting what can not be.

I know I am a fool to wish,

For what will never be.

I’ve always wanted to be the one,

Who helps you live your dreams.

I hope one day you’ll forgive me,

When my skin rips at the seams.

Thank you for holding me so close.

For loving me anyway,

And maybe if I pray enough,

I can come back to you someday…

In another life. Another time.

Born the same as you,

With thicker skin and thicker blood,

And we’ll live our dreams, me and you.

I wish I had been born,

With the same type of skin.

I wish I knew how to live for you,

When I just don’t fit in.

In a life where I’m your burden,

And you’re my greatest sin.

K. Aldaya, 5/15/17

Picture: Posted by Southern Sweetie on Bloglovin.com; https://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/southern-sweetie-4084552/photo-1609929381

Advertisements

272. Societal Denial

34-Gothic-1280x1024-81205

“I want to live”, I said,

To the stranger beside me.

“So, we can go together”, she said.

I nodded, to agree.

“Yes, here we are already dead”.

We drove until the cops appeared;

In many places eyeing us.

We knew when they appeared,

They were onto us;

So I quickly down-geared.

The only way is past this place,

To the other side it goes.

Through the rooms of this place.

Can we escape? Who knows?

But there’s no choice.  We race!

We ducked into an empty room,

With a small window at the end.

Hanging there—feelings of gloom,

In forms of guns to portend,

Would soon lead us to our doom.

We continued on and finally found,

The room of our escape.

We ran and I jumped out and found,

Myself alone in the escape.

My friend could not be found.

It was too late to turn back.

I had to make a break for it.

A cop was there and would attack.

Ran,…but with no hope soon quit,

To protect from the coming smack.

Curled on the ground I waited,

Shaking for fear of humankind.

A sentence won’t be abated,

For reasons held in my mind.

I knew, if caught, I would be hated.

I would be hurt for leaving;

For trying to live and escape fate.

I knew I would be receiving,

More abuse for running from fate.

I waited in dust for the grieving.

When there again, I saw my friend,

And she walked up to me, and I….

I stood and she stepped-in to lend,

Her anger, and voice, to try,….

To get the cop to comprehend.

“You do not understand”, I yelled.

“I have to get away from here”.

“If I am to live just once”, I yelled,

“I have to fight against my fear”.

“Hiding is its’ own hell!”

“Hiding from the truths that are,

Has kept me safe for awhile,

But one can’t hide: not close or far,

From the life-long mile;

Without a life-long scar.”

The cop listened and then of course,

He did his duty and tackled me.

My hands cuffed behind with force.

I’d found more misery,

By running off the course.

The course, for me, the world set.

And there are rules in this place,

Which one cannot change or forget;

Or be labelled ‘criminal’ or ‘basket-case’,

With a lifetime of shame and regret.

But the cops are just doing their work,

And the masses just shuffling along;

And the lost longingly lurk,

In the shadows just drifting along.

No salvation.  Always the jerk.

Plaguing the system with a wailing, sad-song.

Cop: “If you had just stayed hidden,

We could have all gotten along.”

K. Aldaya  6/9/14

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://dark.pozadia.org/images/wallpapers/34-Gothic-1280×1024-81205.jpeg

180. What a Guilty Game You Play My Dear

Guilt

How many times must you speak of all your sacrifices?

I know you truly have a heart, but venality your soul entices,

To onus all who hear your call;

With guilt it does impart.

No matter I still care to fix.

Make it right somehow.

But how, O’ how can this be done?

For continuity won’t allow,

The soul to free and finally be….

A persons’ life begun.

K. Aldaya, 10/21/05

Picture:  Uploaded on Photobucket by ezz_0; Photographer Unknown; http://i774.photobucket.com/albums/yy24/ezz_0/Guilt.jpg