DAISY CHAINS

The Sun was butter upon my skin, dying
my days simple and good, I lived trickling
free with the evening shade as I searched
for a meadow where my imagination could
graze, at last the Sunlight shifted, trying
to find a lick of edible amber or a home-
made creamsicle stick-among the bruises
and blisters that silenced my Sky-but the
Silence was the only thing that was golden
after surviving a paradox of preteen taunts
and broken dreams, this silent meadow was
my childhood delivery, it was here that I
learned how to make daisy chains from the
seams of my juvenile sight, sweetly twining.

I sought out these eyes of summer days to
make a chain, honest and sincere as daisies
and every child's virtue-but this child's
velvet vermilion life had been assaulted,
not knowing any other way I made daisy
chains from my worries and fears and doubt,
my insecurities and careless escapism, I
wove daisies into chains seeking their
purity to purify my childhood days into
a new shade of white, but their petals
were tainted with my pain-the shackles
I could not escape-so in a prison of daisy
chains I still remain, how can I free myself?
Lost in my adult years I still haven't
found the key, words break too easily
and so do I, like breathing in too much
oxygen I hurt inside-but breathing is
all I know how to do right now, so I will
continue to breathe in my essence of life
and whisper out the pain, maybe one day
I wil break these daisy chains.

By NocturneJewel
Copyright: March 27, 2010