I’m living within a painting;
its the only place left to hide;
most suitable for framing;
with my soul residing inside.
It’s a most beautiful landscape;
a place where I’d love to be;
but now, it’s just an escape;
where I no longer have to be me.
People I love, have berated me;
down deep, they regard me with scorn;
and I’m no longer who I want to be;
as though I had never been born.
Deep in the past I have hurt them;
certainly not by my choice;
they believe that I did desert them;
but it was only destiny’s voice.
What salve will heal wounds of the past?
What balms, applied, show that I care?
Can words said; for a lifetime last;
why can’t such words go elsewhere?
And actions too, not even a bruise;
will they forever, me stain?
Are they quite sufficient cause to lose;
that love, once attached to my name?
Love me not; but please forgive,
transgressions you’ve tethered to me;
for I’m no longer freed to live,
till forgiveness has set me free.