K. G.

The Blind Hatchet

I’ll never know why, you find it

To relive the past

Only not your own but mine!

What is done is done and never will be un-done

A wise man once said
    Bury the hatchet

And for a while, that is what you have done

Now unearthed again and sharper than ever

Hits every nerve in my bone
    The Core
        Of my Own

You say ‘But a Jest!’ and while I try to agree
You’ll never know the pain you have caused me

And Wait!
    Who are you, anyway?

You think you know me
    But you can’t really see

Going on second year past
And ‘Finally’ I thought ‘At last’

I shall get away from your lone thought of superiority

Acquired through years
    and Years

Of stepping on their heads
    The ones you called your friends

        The ones you used
                and abused

On your ironically lonely journey to the top
    Slicing and
    Carving and
    still using the blade you cut me down with as well

I would think about this
    You are one, of many, I’d never miss
        Yet still! You persist!

The phone still rings, a pleasant surprise?
    Nay the same cold heart, now in disguise

I laugh and I kid as I hang up the phone
I manage a smile, I want to be alone

And try and discover, this new issue I face
Why do I still care…
That you best me always, in this emotional race

            I try so hard to be me
            Bury the hatchet and let it be


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.