Fragmented They

I am a reflection
A surging motion
Of swirling intent
Where innocence meets
The wisdom of centuries.

I make no judgment
Save to protect my soul
From the thieves
The self proclaimed ministries
Those who feign knowledge
Surface pieces for
Those who know no better.

Standing on the outskirts
I observe the circle
Sadly soaking in the
Reality of facades
Like maybe this time
They might succeed
In turning pain sublime.

But when the wicked fades,
The tears return
Sliding down their faces
As band-aids peel down
The scars still evident
The blood stains prevalent
they are left as before
broken pieces on a red stained floor.

there's no severance of healing,
when the scabs keep peeling
torn by stranger's hands,
i watch them try again
and again
and again
mornings left to suffer past
because the numbness didn't last.

I have moved to the
edge of the crowd
where the lies aren't so loud;
where the pretending is masked
where the egos
fall like avalanches
each stone
a piece of the damaged.

blocking the rubbage,
i dig my feet into the sand
close my eyes as it
all begins to flow
the balance, the everlasting glow,
remembering Me,
I float blissfully in the trees.

~vennie~

copyright @ dbv publishing 2011