Reading an old journal entry showed how deeply someone close to me once hurt me. I chuckle at the intensity of some of my words and how I have a more sunny disposition in my writing these days. Enjoy the words of this once-angry-black-man.
Without me, she’s without kenn
Fettered, unfit, and dark within
Going nowhere and hope so slim
Too deep to tread, too vain to swim
The stench of vomit and rusted sin
And dark and dank and bleak and dim
Her dirge plays like unfamiliar hymns
No sing-alongs nor hopeful glims
Without me, no weeds are trimmed
Her moniker lies, her smile still sins
Like windows and mirrors with broken lens
Or brothers and sisters not akin
Or bleeding organs ‘neath swelling skin
The rainfall floods, the speaker is grim
Hope once had, from my grasp she rends
No apologies nor attempted mends
One day she’ll see but until then
Do cry for her for she’s just… sans kenn.
-kB!