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Serenity Lost

January 5, 2014

The nagging pokes perforate my serenity

The kind that doesn’t come easily

The type fighting against the jabs

Thinking the stabbing is a side effect

Of some past experience.

“Don’t hold onto the unhappiness,” he said.

The poking, prodding notes

Of discomfort

Tell a different story,

One that’s convoluted in gooey memories and shaky truths.

Unhappiness is forced to exit my ears

Leave my lips bumbling something about pain

And desperate to suck the words back in.

The jolting is normal

For me

It hasn’t changed in years.

The hope is that is will

The fear is that it will not.

I let go the fear

In remembrance of what he said.

Unhappiness, no longer my friend, must be set free.

‘Tis a speakeasy to the ego and heart

When something’s poking around inside me.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. January 5, 2014 2:04 pm

    Nice imagery – disturbing and provocative.

  2. January 5, 2014 2:09 pm

    Thanks for stopping by and sharing.

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