Real Me


Sometimes I wonder whether you want to know
the real me I’ve hidden deep down below.
The one I know who has thousands of insecurities.
Are you ready to plumb my deepest secrets and
unravel my mysteries?

She’s my one true self I’ve squirreled away,
while holding back the pain of disappointments at
For her innocence is the sweetest nectar there is,
when she’s gone and disappeared I know I will surely

She’s the light I hold within to battle the darkest of
with her courage and strength that she exudes with
No one has seen how terrifying she can be
when I’ve lost everything, she’ll come and protect me.

Will you dare to find the one I hold dear,
the one I’ve covered in so many layers out of fear?
Would you dance through the fire and swim in her
or will you melt and disappear when surrounded by
her presence?

-The Elusive Scribe 062813-


On a Sunless Day


No words are said on this sunless day,
where shadows loom and the lights have gone dim.
Just a trail of tears smudged by fingers,
shaking off fears, damning the weeks,
that made her feel as if she’s forever alone.
Confusion comes to rattle her brain,
conjuring doubts to cloud her mind.
A scream forms from the depths of her soul,
crying for release, begging to be free.
Yet trapped in her sadness she remains,
wrapped in a shroud of misery until the end of her days.

-The Elusive Scribe 062513-


The Murmurs


In the dead of the night I hear,
whispers made by the shadows near.
I can catch phrases in between the din,
piecing them together feels like a sin.

The language of the shadows may not be for mere
mortal’s ears,
but I can catch their murmurs with my blossoming
Even while I’m hidden under my blanket shivering,
the cacophony of the sounds they make is still echoing,
against the stillness of the night that moves ever so
leaving me with the mutterings of the shadows that
appear so ghostly.

I try to close my eyes and pretend to sleep,
but the shadows know how to make me weep.
With their silent presence that bores down on me,
I feel like my eyes will no longer be able to see,
the light of day I always welcome with glee.

But wait, the strength of their murmurs is starting to
like the distant stars that are becoming unmade.
Their echoes are starting to dwindle in my head,
or maybe because my soul they took from me and now
I’m dead.

-The Elusive Scribe 050313-