Another 'Found' Poem. Come!! Laugh At My Melancholy!

      These days crawl to close

            with a dizzying weakness.

       (---the streets here don’t even know my name---)

       But aching grey surf and clouds

     match this melancholy with such completeness,

it’s as if sky and sea sense and echo my pain.

Raging rivers of regret,

     you can't hide in hazel eyes,

And I swear I FEEL the wounds rip open. 

     The tear.  My heart laid wide

     for the world to see.

The pain, the past. . . the pure and pulsing—

And gone is strength to conceal, to disguise,

these lovely demons that visit me.

Sun sets, and shades are drawn,

     and burning tears burst without

     WHISPER OF WARNING.

The Gollum in my head is at his terrible worst.

A million tiny slivers of shame, and I make it to morning.

Try to avoid it,

     Try to maintain.

But I know my head is the only place

     to safely rest this Crown of Blame.

“Stubborn” is the label

     that I’ve received (accurately) for my actions,

but ‘hard-headed’ is the label that I KNOW

     to be more true.

And while I NEVER will escape myself,

(***though to the ends of the earth I may wander***)

neither would I  poison another

with a soul that seems to

DAILY reap its due.