by jamescarman

I can’t find myself situated,
even after I have pleaded my case.
It seems like I am the enemy in every eye,
it seems that way.

When I had it all to give,
I was left empty.
So much to give,
so very much.

broken bottles,
a broken mind.

And now I sit in my own trashed world,
when I wanted nothing more
than a small ounce
of love.

I was ready,
steady feet planted to the ground,
my emotions at sway,
I was ready.

It’s hard to let loose
knowing you are the enemy.

All the excitement
turns against the spirit,
but this pain
is silent heroism.

An enemy of weak,
a romantic struggle.
A caged lover in shackles,
desperate to break free.

this fabrication of love,
an ongoing hallucination.

Accuse me,
it’s the right thing to do.
I am only a prisoner of your speculation
unwillingly so.

I am the enemy,
against you,
against them,
against myself.

All I ever wanted
was an ounce of love.