I found this the other day. I wrote it during a dark time of my life in the spring semester of 2009.

My dreams woke up with wounds that heal, but these scars, they remain the same. My life brewed with meaning, with purpose. Memories and time can’t be changed, but the future can. Saving myself a monstrosity of overbearing pain, and unhappiness, my time has told me to quit. An unkind presence negotiates my surrender, my blame, but the stories of the night that were said were more to be. A diluting fame and obscure hypocrisy indeed partakes in an order that releases no guilt of its own. The forgiveness and redemption never washes clean. Their eyes still bear that memory, oh that undying memory. The falsehood lay on thy brothers, yet a misconstrued word is tormented with my name. The reputation has been torn apart. A tornado, swifter than God himself, plagues my heart, with whirlwinds and lightning. Beasts entered my doorstep, oh how ungratefully they did not knock. A foretelling of this hell had been told in a mind unwilling to speak. A disaster awaited me, yet I was left blind through the storm. This was the third beast that had knocked. A man of wisdom, of knowledge, emphasized and insinuated manners of an astounding position and words thrown at my face. Words of another, yet again, were blamed in my name. This was the second beast to knock. Her eyes were of beauty. Her love was clean and pure, though not of mine. This was the third beast to knock. The third and first beast was of a love that was denounced by the second beast. An ongoing portrait never to be finished flourished throughout their name. This first beast came with lies and deceptions. Her havoc would reach my ears on nights of a half moon. They brought thunder and shrieks that would never be forgotten. These knocks were hours upon hours of shrieks and thunder. My time rejoices a memorable victory, yet ridiculed my name will be, for those who do not know. My dreams wake up to wounds that fade with an over looking eye.