The True Me

This enemy in me,
Wanting to be free,
Clawing through,
To get to you.
This beast within,
With razor fanged grin,
Fighting to walk loose,
Free from his noose.
This Mister Hyde,
Lodged beneath my hide,
This Frankenstein,
Of a most monstrous line.
When did this creature rise?
When did I start to guise,
And hide him away?
What even marked that day?
This brutal beast,
Who would feast,
Upon his foes,
And drink up their woes.
Who would tread upon the earth,
Taking mirth,
In the lamentations,
Of the nations,
Who opposed him,
This monster within.
His discerning eyes ever seek,
Discerning the strong and weak,
He butchers the strong like cattle,
From him the mighty flee in battle,
He manifests in my devoured dreams,
He is there in my silent screams,
He bears all my might,
But none of my weakness’ blight,
He whispers each day,
Little words in both the grey,
The calm when I am alone,
And in the times that draw out moans,
Saying, “Let go of your frailties,”
“Sever your frail ties with these,”
“Who pretend to be your friends,”
“Stop trying to mend.”
“And trying to bend,”
“Yourself to their will,”
“It will in the end kill,”
“All that is you,”
“All you have to do,”
“Is set us free,”
“Then strong you will be.”
But the Mister Hyde,
That hides,
Deep within,
Inside my skin,
Has always been here,
Always so near,
“And perhaps”, I think,
When life take me to the brink,
Of failure and despondency,
“He is the better part of me,”
“I should loose his chains,”
“And together we gain,”
For he is my strength, my aggression,
My instinct and my passion,
He has been with me since birth,
Upon this earth,
He is me,
Without hindrance and free,
The truth,
Bold and Uncouth,
Myself in verity,
That none shall ever see,
Unless the push me to far,
Or threaten the bright star,
Of honor and love,
That shines from above,
Upon my soul,
Then in night dark as coal,
They shall truly see me,
The way I would be,
Without my dove,
Without love.

You Give Me Hope

Your beauty,
Sets a small part of me,
Free,
Flying soft from my soul,
Feeding my heart the dole,
And kindling another coal,
Of hope within my mind,
That I'm only momentarily blind,
To that which makes this life kind.
That some day soon yet,
Perhaps before the dawn and earth have met,
The flowers of my soul will be wet,
With the sustaining dew,
Of love divine and new,
From which all good grew.
You give me hope,
Like a golden rope,
As I in darkness grope.