- Books, Literature, and Writing
A Poem- I will be there underneath
You only get one try at life- Don't blink
The truth is much deeper than my soul
This isn’t always who I have been
If you peel back my layers you may see where I’ve lived.
I lost, I have left, I have died in moments,
I feel lost in my years and I am not sure how I wound up here.
Have I earned this place in a life that feels like a race?
What have I earned-how should I be?
I wash off the dirt-to see if I still can see me.
Broken smile, this girl has become hole.
I lost my fracture as I caught grasp of this world.
Save me from a life, I didn’t mean to live.
I created my own hell- help me release some of my sin.
Doubt fills up my heart-I cannot forgive myself
For the damage I have caused- Was never meant for someone else.
Shallow laughter of wasted years- I wipe from my cheek an outpour of my tears.
I still can’t breath-I still doubt I belong,
I still wonder if I even learned- the difference of what is wrong.
I cannot explain why I have become this way.
I cannot figure out why it is me who forgot the rules of my own game.
You look and you wonder and you believe I am whole,
I tell you not to focus on me- the truth is much deeper than my soul.
I am engraved in fear-that I am not supposed to be here.
And when I am found- I will not have the means to make my way out.
Every day I still struggle for what I feel the need to consume.
I still can feel empty and I feel lost that I am lost within you.
Bath me in the darkness.
Darkness that can take over the light
Take me in shallow places-and show me this isn’t right
Teach me how to breathe-before I can’t see.
Show me that as the dirt washes away- I will be there underneath.
I hope the tears are lost,
I know that they found a way out,
Shake me-Make me-Pray that I can figure my place out.
I pretend that I am okay- I place a smile on my face and lose yesterday.
It is not about me-as much as I wish sometimes it was.
I have no longer a moment to lose what I do not know.
Clouds break up-the moon moves in,
I read another bedtime story- so I can be tucked in.
Sit down for a nap.
With eyes that will not shut.
Each day glides into the next day,
As I then begin to lose what thought I thought I could trust.
An alternate ego-that doesn’t quite make sense.
Is it my alter ego- or is it the guidance that God has sent?
I cannot believe that I am not who I was.
When did I grow up-what happened to the world?
I missed my own life focusing on what I didn’t have.
Now I am awake and the world is unfamiliar,
As I try to rediscover what it is I no longer lack.
More By HC Porter
- Prose Poetry- As the Violins Play in the Background
HC Porter writes more Prose Poetry with stunning imagery from both words and pictorial displays. Prose Poetry on HubPages.com, by HC Porter
- Poetry- How will the pages be turned?
Prose Poetry by H.C Porter- sometimes we find we are lost from ourselves and our lives. A poem about a women who escapes to a better place through her books and her mind, only to realize this is no way to live. Embrace Your Life
- Prose Poetry-Wasted Days
How would you view the story of your life if your re-read it? Wasted Days is the review of life as it was written and felt by the writer. Prose Poetry By H.C Porter.