I often wish you knew my truth—
knew it intimately, intensely and let
it burn incandescently in your veins,
molten lava flowing, a glacier of glaring crimson
gently moving, affecting, astonishing you.
I often wish you knew me before
you let the hammer strike,
I often wish you haunted the corridors
I haunt, wish you looked in the scarred
mirror I look in, claw marks and tears
that made me bleed, that ripped flesh
and tore ligament.
They say truth is beautiful
but I wish you knew my truth.
They say love conquers all
but I wish you knew that there’s no
love when you’re imprisoned in a cage,
a blue bird turned raven,
songs turning into shrieks and caws.
I often wish you took my place,
knew what walking to Golgotha really meant,
knew an emotional crucifixion,
a nail pierced soul for nobody’s
redemption, not even mine.
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