Pulse

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Pulse

Strangely enough, there are but only a few,
Who understand me fully and know who l am,
Many assume wrongly that they know me too,
Thinking foolishly that they understand this man,

But sadly this is quite simply not the case,
They see me, my writing, my thinking,
Yet rarely do they see beyond my face,
And into my mind, despite their constant blinking,

For if they did, and knew me as they so say,
Then they would know only too well,
Twas not long ago, the days of only yesterday,
Saw me change and start the journey towards hell,

The unstable mind can also be beautiful,
Yet the beauty is purely within,
Those unseeing, only see the unusual,
And not what lays behind and hidden,

For if they were to know me as well as said,
Then they would understand more clearly,
What actually goes on in my head,
And not live in their pretence of actuality,

Could they see, that perhaps, even maybe,
The complexity of pain as unknown by most,
Is a daily occurrence and sadly,
Not a relationship l would like to raise toast,

Nay, ‘tis but a truth of our mankind,
It is by far easier, to live in darkness then to face,
The sadness many feel in the daily grind,
Of the hidden and imaginary place,

I long for an end that many would find disturbing,
And pray that l can live to serve my purpose,
In this life, without my cause being found perturbing,
By those who will never truly understand my pulse.

 

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