Mar 17, 2016

41 IN MY PUDDLE

Some days my puddle is just a puddle
Small, insignificant, barely existent much like a tiny drip
Other days it enlarges and grazes the souls of my feet
Barely enough to touch my toes
Shielded by the barrier of my shoes however…
More noticeable, shimmering
Reflecting, mirroring my denials
Forecasting stubborn unfinished truths
Putting me on notice
In those moments when the truth refuse to be denied
I gaze resign and anxious at my puddle’s transparency
Almost mocking in its exposure
Revealing everything beneath
Pure truths, stark naked and unbending
Shamelessly moving through a rancid path from yesterday into today
Suffocating
Transfixing
Stealing away my confidence
Leaving flakes of sadness and poisoned laughter
Clinging bitterly to my throat

Some days my puddle is my coffin
Overpowering, strangling hope,
Dismantling dreams
From its nonstop dreadful stink of yesteryear
Round in the belly of my psyche
Other days my puddle shifts
From beneath my feet
To huddle in my nose
Stealing my breath
Blurring my vision
Pushing me maliciously toward despair
But stubbornly I reposition myself
Poised and filled with a robustness birthed at the feet of anguish
That merged and morphed through the ages of tribulations
Defiantly I blow it out
Triumphant and euphoric
I reduce my puddle to just a puddle again
A tiny speck
Barely discernible
That for the most part
Goes unnoticed

Written by D.S.B.S.Rhapsody(c) all rights reserved. 
Wallpaper image from http://hampix.blogspot.ca/
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