The gentlest of flowers
are constantly trampled
under heavy boots

symphonies and orchestras
played for us,
and when the music came to an end
I found my head.
I am not apologizing.

I felt the blood, rushing through me
as I swayed through a dream of lust
and alcohol,
not once with a
worry.
I am not sorry.

I have recently found out,
that I can use the word "I"
and not be afraid of
deeming "us" dead.
I am not worried.

to the raw nerve you had
to request such out of my mouth,
I applaud it deeply.
without you, I would have
never brought myself
to say
"I don't love you anymore"
I am non-apologetic.

isn't it odd
how we can know
human nature
well enough
to write poems
that move others
to tears
yet must hear
the words of others
to cry
alone
.

No more will I whisper my pain into storms in the hope that the thunder will hide the sound of breaking.
No more will I wonder at the beauty of death and its promise of release, the monotonous metronome of blood dripping onto tile nor how it would feel to slowly swing, my life ebbing away as my eyes wonder at the stars they create.
No more will I swallow the oblivion prescribed, I will not allow the erosion of my soul any longer, I refuse to become any less than this.
No more will I question my existence  within a monochrome world while all around others glory in rainbow hues.

I alone am the captain of my destiny.

There is beauty here should I choose to see it and I have turned my face away long enough.