Fool
I’ve been a fool, I am a fool; it’s quite plain.
I had cut deep and opened my skin
Allowing my glass-forged heart to smash on the floor.
My eyes were transformed and transfixed;
Moving from my head to my heart
And watching your every move,
Their hardened coating slipped into susceptibility.
I ask myself the question of questions: why?
Why shed my clothes and my armour
And prepare myself to be hurt?
Would I rather be unloved and whole? I wonder.
My body, once clean, remains scarred and tainted.
Worst of all, the nails that did it stay in me; part of myself.
I pick at them, I pull them out,
But they’re dug so deep that I paint a new skin on top.
What am I supposed to do now? Some say stay,
Some say go. I think what I’m going to do is walk away.
Circumspectness is freedom; happiness is being free.
I now look for the path to sagacity; not foolishness.
© Joseph Tradescent
Poems
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