Finis

- The Seasons Of Grief: Chapter V - Poem XI -

Inside the windowsill, I wrote the word “finis,”

Bored at the Sunday service and its hypocrisy

I was never one to listen and not question authority,

But I was forced to abide by my tongue and set my limits 

What I wouldn’t give to do nothing on a Friday,

In dusky sunlight that tells me something that I’ve come to know is the truth

“No one will understand you as much as you do,”

So, boy, good luck sewing up your wounds all tidy

I thought it was fine, it’d all work out in the end,

But no one warned me

How hard it was to break after I failed to bend,

Until then, I’d never yearned to be free

‘Cause if you grow up without the teenage experience,

You’re bound to want it as an adult with overdue petulance

So I wrote it all down, just so I don’t forget,

Forgetfulness runs in the family, minds no longer mint

I was saved once, but does this count as a second time?

Does rebirth always require the feeling of being contrite?

Nevertheless, I stand outside the car door,

Before they drive off and run through the red lights

I’m the one who’s always stayed there, the one who’s never put up a fight,

But I can’t help how my mother raised me, love is at my core

Sometimes I’m just rambling with fragmented conjecturing stories,

I pray and pray for the light to reach the cave I always fall into

Where the damp purity reveals what I lie, that is the truth,

The twilight moonlight is when I finally see the clarity

I thought I’d get out eventually, but the book keeps rewriting itself,

But no one came to stop me from writing

The poems that wouldn’t solve my problems, but instead revealed what I think about myself,

My ink-stained veins have wilted the seasonal tree

‘Cause if you grow up to realize that all you went through made you,

You’re bound to fix how they hurt and bruised you with the false truth

So I wrote this all down just so I don’t rethink what was real,

Deception can creep in, turn ivory blue to rusted teal

When the kids find the record of me someday,

They’ll dig it out of the ground and read what I always say

I’m still praying I get that house up in Washington,

Where we’re dancing with the windows open 

It’s all I know,

It’s all I’ll ever know,

And what I’ll ever want to know