He, Or I, Or Me

Richard M. Ankers




Beneath free flowing smiles,
Darker depths do lurk.
Where still waters pool
And others fear to swim,
A scowl of self-loathing does slowly manifest
Secreting itself, inveigling,
Waiting, always waiting.
You cannot see it,
Neither can he, or I, or me,
But the ebony ripples
Of dropped moments
Ripple outwards in continuous motion.
There is no sponge,
No absorbent memory
To eagerly soak up that which gloats.
There is no escape within written word,
Although, at times, he, or I, or me,
Does think it.
It is the difference between knowing and ignoring oneself,
The realisation that all is unwell
And striving not to prove it.
No, the surge of something darker just awaits a slip,
And he, or I, or me only postpones its surfacing.

(Image courtesy of Kancano on deviantart.com)

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