Sickness of the Naïve

Sickness of the Naïve

Certainly, I know the answer

a black panther waiting for a bell to ring

with all this silence.

I knew there was something wrong

when my hurt was always fresher than the truth

and a grey dust from the beginning of life

began to settle on out shoulders.

These months are numberless aches

with 2-hour breaks into unconsciousness.

Always broken, awoken by sweat making a path

down the valleys of my body

as I try to cleanse away the burning hate.

And I am so cold I want to set myself alight,

To bask in the only flame I can make.

How can there be so many questions

When so few linger here?

This poison seeping out of me

And finally you tasted it,

another promise fallen through

another blanked page in my book;

I could name you all

Names and dates and words and lies and pain

but nothing would change.

I’m sick of being naïve,

and the trust has stolen the floor I stand on one time too many.

Hope may live on through others

but I want to resign

I want no name, no body, no soul, no life

I want to be nothing

to become what you all see me as.

© PickledSparklyMoosePrincess – author