Untitled Poem

The night shrouds my good intentions
With a blanket of navy lace
And my actions are somehow blurred
By the inevitability that it will slip away
I am muted
Fallen silent to the demons of my past
They are back
They are screaming
And I’ll never get away.
But I wonder what will happen
As morning breaks over the horizon
And the rain drives the faint of heart away
Will I be free of my past
Of my mistakes of tainted youth and misguided intentions
And the life I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve
But didn’t want so very long ago.
I wonder if it ever really fades
Because the tattoo burnt across my heart is darkening
It says liar, fake, deceiver
But it’s in a dialect only few recognize
The few that matter
The few that care
The few that branded it there
With the intention of never letting it go.
Their grasp is loosening
After years of holding on with all their might
The world’s spinning, spinning,
Turning over new leaves, new trees,
And even newer breeds of deception
So has my crime dulled with time
With repeated overshadowing of the lower
The lowest of the low
Situated far below me on the ranks of disillusionment
Can I be forgiven in a world of the unforgiving
Or can I be at least, possibly at most, forgotten
The pain will never dull
The screams will never mute
The scars will never fade.
But the guilt, that brick of blame
It can be shrouded by the navy lace
As it rests so peacefully in the night
Awaiting a new day, a new say,
A new version of life,
It teeters on the edge of slipping,
But will never fall, unless pushed.