Windburn

Pinned by my past, restricted by my acts, condemned by the deeds that have forever defined me
The commotion of those around me as I offer nothing, waiting, they are, for me to defend myself
The glare of a mocking crowd permeates my skin, causing this once slight itch to grow intolerable    
The redness of my face is a result of the embarrassment of the moment
Old friends, new foes, and those who otherwise wouldn’t care continue to wait for an apology that isn’t coming  
Those who are clinging to any form of acknowledgment are sure to be the ones who will be disappointed the most
This irritated skin will be infected with disease long before I will ever think about asking for forgiveness 

My exposed body is completely vulnerable to these elements; this chaffing is nothing unexpected
This final layer of protection begins to break down slowly
This irritated skin turns to a purplish red and gnaws at my core
I offer no defenses, this is my disgrace, this is my remorse, and this is my way of telling you that I deserve this pain
It won’t be too much longer now
No, it won’t be too much longer now 

For years upon years, I followed right over wrong and still I could not find a method to forgive myself
Acting in ways that would make others proud, but still I was filled with this suffocating misery
Until the frustration caught up and the anger slowly began to intensify
And I surrendered to temptations that brought with them deep, profound amounts of shame
I had given myself plenty of reasons for this deserved self-hatred
When others wanted to assist, I lashed out and berated them, letting them know, in no uncertain terms, to let me be
Shouting emphatically that they could not possibly understand the anguish swirling through my defective brain

The angry wind pounds away at my unprotected skin
My flesh shredded from the nutrients it needs to survive 
Lacking moisture, susceptible to infection, I can do nothing more at this point other than wait 
I offer no defenses, this is my disgrace, this is my remorse, and this is my way of telling you that I deserve this pain
It won’t be too much longer now
No, it won’t be too much longer now 

This poem is about suffering and withering away as a result of being exposed to and inhaling the many pollutants around us.

We fail to protect ourselves until it is too late.

Written in 2013

Copyright, The Poetry of Bryan Buser