poems

How far….

Plastic Toy Soldiers Photo from ebay.com

How far I’ve come…
07/05/2017

There’s a legend on the horizon and I see the shape more clearly now.
Previously harsh sunlight, too bright, It hurt.
Loss of things I couldn’t hold tight, couldn’t fight. It hurt.
Today distinct representations of internal diagrams.
Not horsefly or moth but emotional constructs.
Desire, loyalty, self respect and attitude.
Lots of things combined it’s hard to understand what I feel – multitude.
Like steroid enchanced muscles but with a natural remedy.
That cure being who I’ve become today.
Self respect has been here everyday.
But my ego needs some time to layaway.

My achievements are far, wide, tall and short.
But the height of it isn’t what’s in my mind it’s what’s in my heart.
I’d forsaken a part of me I’d not realised.
The sociable, habitual conversationalist I’d just stigmatised.

I allowed myself to grow dark.
Park with the battery on but nobody home.
An open car with a hidden dictaphone.
I took the answers but didn’t speak the truth.
Trust became an issue I’d doused in rust.
Left it renegade, such that I couldn’t help myself.
Spade.

Was it my hand in the glove?
I couldn’t sense my wrong doing but knew my undoing.
wronged myself with internal flaws.
Self deprecating analogy’s which just built more walls.
Fingertips to lips, spasmatic fits, adrenaline fueled quips I’d shoot from the hip.
I wasn’t upto it.

I didn’t want it.
I realised when I found out as I didn’t discover.
It was another attention seeking falacy that wasn’t to do with my mother.
Anyone can be an A**hole it doesn’t take much thought.
But to let people in, damn….. that takes a heart.

I didn’t buy it at first and mostly still don’t.
But I know I’ll let it pan out and stand up if it won’t.
Previously I’d of bitten and punched through the fear.
Then turn around and find nobody’s near.

Don’t dramatise my reality it’s fictionally sane.
It’s justifiably accurate if not badly mundane.
Although the excitements for real the emotion might not be.
I’m in here somewhere or maybe I’m not me.

They seem to want the same personal awareness.
integrate business without a life of stress.
I can’t promise perfection but awareness is progress.
No code of practice but I can wear my own dress.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2017.

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