Merry Go Round

I used to love
The merry-go-’round,
Always riding
Up and down
On a beautiful horse
Whose mane stood still
As it rode in circles,
Ignorant to thrill.
There came a day
When it began to feel slow,
And I realized
There was nowhere to go
On a horse that always
Rode the same path,
The scenery always
The same as it passed.


Steel Being

I have been burned.
I have felt the flames
Engulf my skin and my being.
I felt them wrap around my heart,
Twisting it into something
I never thought it could be.
I saw the world,
Distorted through the smoke,
And had to remind myself
Where I was,
Who I was,
And why.

And in the days passed
Since such trauma
I have been told
How it has made me who I am,
How it has made me stronger,
How it has turned my skin to steel.
Don’t they understand?
The flames did not do that.
The flames tore through my skin
Like it was paper.
The flames left me inhuman,
Looking in the mirror
Was never so painful.
I built the steel
Around myself
To hide my scars,
And I told everyone
It was my new skin,
Wearing it with false pride
As if being made of steel
Could change what I’d been through.
But it’s still there.
It will never leave me.
And when I am told
How it’s made me stronger
As if I or anyone
Should be grateful
For something so awful,
The scars burn
As if the fire
Has been lit again
This time, beneath my armor
Held against my skin.
And I can relive
The agony I went through
Trying to put it out.
I am no steel being,
Only someone too afraid
To live without armor.

Change in Time

I cannot feel the time that passes,
Only the time that is gone.
I cannot sense the seasons changing,
Only the difference once they are done.
I cannot see the moon become full,
Nor watch the sun as it moves.
I cannot know the light is changing
Until it illuminates the room.
And not a day goes by
Inside my mind
That holds any weight I can feel
Until my shoulders are hanging
With the weight of the world
And my feet drag as though made of steel.
I wish time would slow down,
Give me time to look around,
Though I know time is not to blame.
I’ve been far too careless
And took it for granted
That all flowers might bloom again
At some later time
When I did not assume
I was already too busy
To take them in.