Too far gone to care.


I used to sit inside that cage,
With iron bars made of rage. Let no one in let no one see,
My biggest fear was being free.
I used to hate to think and feel,
told myself I was keeping it real.
A moat, a dam, concrete walls,
So easy to keep up these fucked up rules.
Yet still,
that haunting pain seeped through the cracks,
Seeking me out on the darkened tracks.
Spectres never to be trusted,
like the Tinman my heart rusted.
Rooted to the spot drowning in rain,
Still I told myself, this kept me sane.
Sane. Sane like the broken clones of society. The stereotypical byproduct of reality.
The path of the sane has more pain than insanity.

I used to sit inside that cage,
with iron bars made of rage.
Feared that temptation to ever engage,
Fearing always the stories final page.
Now I’m the writer, and that page is mine,
Tis true I never know what I will find,
but no longer do I fear the appearance of my kind
For I tired of the days when I let society define.
I might not know the way,
but I’ll no longer fear what I say.
I might not see an end,
but I’ll no longer be pretend.
Along this path I’ll meet them all,
people sent to make me fall,
and others, hands out stretched,
showing me,
that I am worthy,
to stand fucking tall.
I used to sit inside that cage,
fearing all I felt, the love, the rage.
But now I choose to be the page.

Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words)

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Welcome to my blog! Here you will find different forms of creative writing, lots of swearing, erotic poetry, random thoughts, beautiful imagery, but most of all you will find a version of truth. My truth, this is the way that I see the world. However, all of my work is a form of creative writing, a combination of truth and fiction. I write to express my creativity, not my needs!

4 thoughts on “Too far gone to care.”

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