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Poem - One Last Time

posted 3/7/2007 4:13:21 PM |
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Yet again I find myself wondering who I am

Mind detached from body, broken chains allowing me to observe

Sitting on high I peer through the mists of my own creation in order to judge what I've become

I see a man scarcely fit to be called a boy, all smiles and frowns

Worry creasing his brow, with the hint of tears and laughter in both his eyes, I see him waiting

What is it he waits for?

Is he waiting for change, something new to react and adapt to?

Seeing what he's seen I find myself praying his world will change, that he will be thrust away from the pains he knows

Perhaps he waits for life to place him into the hands of another tyrant

Another soul so charged with negative power that it snuffs out the light that shines within him

But looking into his eyes, my own so long ago, I know what it is he waits for

The power to struggle, strive, strain, and survive, the power to break away

To rise above the rabble and raise a righteous fist into the air declaring victory

I see this boy waiting for his chance to push the beauty in his heart out into the world for everyone to look upon in awe

To be so unlike the tyrants who help him captive, it is for this that he waits

He just wants to be good

He dreams he can protect and nurture, love and be loved

And in his dreams he stands tall beside a family, bathed in the glory of a light shared by all

But I know this foolish boy and I know his dreams

I've lived his life and stolen the light in his eyes for my own

It was I who finally gained power and strove to change the world I called my own

And I failed him

Though I gained my family and loved them dearly, there is still so much wrong

No matter how much I protect and nurture I can still feel the icy grip of a tyrant's hand on my heart, fingers pushing the seeds of destruction inside me

So who am I?

I am the product of my own damnation, propelled down the twisted path by hands I call my own

I am the child of light with tendrils of darkness enveloping the very core of my being

I am he who you shall always call savior, brother, lover, fiend, and devil

I am the protecter who drives a dagger into your sleeping body

I am

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Poem - One Last Time