The Cost

A poem written from a vulnerable place within my heart and psyche. Reviews are welcome.

"The cost"
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When I walked in, they appraised me as an alien
What to make of the thin skin they draped me in
I drank stale from the well of ancient springs
I spent all my earnings on a bubble to encase me in
For all eternity we waited with bated breath
Hating deaths inevitable grip, invading guests
Some tried to eschew understanding and act with grace
I aimed for clarity and tried to forget my place in this race
Still we faced off, still we braced ourselves for a comet
Spoke in sonnets about the blow we hoped to be softest
Step in to the office, a chaos that is naturally lawless
But always we rebuild in our image and pay what it costs us

You want to sleep with angels
Want to run with devils
Want to walk alone now
On uncharted levels
Petty grasps at divinity
To prove you’re worthy
Then on your knees for
The smallest of the mercies

@Copyright Heather Johnson/Heather Johansson 2006