Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

This Place of Near-Incessant Mourning

I do not understand
Why he sabotaged me so consummately,
And made me look like
Such a pathetic old patsy,

Could he not discern the misery
He was shoring up by degrees,
Over the course of the years
For the self he would ultimately be?

It was perforce a former version of me,
Who led me to this place
Of near-incessant mourning,
A narcissistic anomaly,

Who never wanted the precious gifts
Of peace and domesticity,
The little ones that might have been,
He spirited them all away from me.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Sometimes we are our own worst enemy?

Seems to me this is about mental self harm, and the aching need to get past all regret that actually we can cause to ourselves, hoping to find a place of peace within,and maybe even the ecceptance that one will never feel the peace, as something always stirs.
I have no idea if you will understand my words, but I will pass by to see. A very powerful beautifully written poem is you sertainly take time to use the most effective words in your poetry.

Thank you...Teddy

...and I am so glad you like this piece, and you consider the words so effective, they were torn from me as it were by my very anguish, but as is always the case, the worst of it passed, and I came to that place you mention, where I simply accepted I will never feel the peace, nor get past the regret. I am quite often there, and can function within it for reasonably extended periods. Bye for now. Carl.

author comment

Hello Carl, it does seem to be what Teddy has already said. Mourning for some self one left behind, perhaps in a tragedy?
Otherwise, I would understand it to be a reproach to someone you loved, but that's second guessing.
Lovely imagery, the feeling comes through harshly, not an easy issue to take in fully. The title is fine and so is the spacing and topic.
All the best, Gracy

*
*
*
"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

It's great to hear from you here. Yes, it's very close to that, mourning for some self left behind, my old self, in a sense that self faded quite some time ago now, and I am addressing 'him' here, certainly very reproachfully, there was tragedy yes, but of course I did survive it. I am so pleased you like the imagery, that was born pretty well 100% from what I was feeling as I wrote it, and yes it's harsh, I can become very bitter during these spells, but they do pass, or rather lessen. Bye for now. Carl.

author comment
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.