“Purge” is about cleaning out what has been inside forever. It’s about looking at all of yourself and accepting it with open arms, and in the end of this potential series of poems that will follow this one, hopefully, falling in love with yourself.
My innocence is the grave that no one brings flowers to.
My past is a bed of thorns that I lie in everyday.
Some nights, I don’t get a single scratch
And on others, I talk to the moon
to distract myself from how I’m bleeding out;
Only to recover the next morning.
Where the new dawn calls me, I walk.
I am chained.
I haul the poles I’m chained to, out of the ground, and I walk.
Then like an Olympic hammer throw, I toss them away,
Glory and sway!
And the crowd roars in applause!
…but the seats are empty.
And the chains are still tied to the hammers,
clawed around my wrists…
So I walk.
I wonder if the universe were upside down
And we were all stars that stars gazed upon,
Would they have found me in a constellation?
Would I even be aware that I was part of one?
Or would I be the star that exploded alone
as lovers watched through a telescope,
wishing for eternal joy;
Because the way I shot through the sky that night
was too damn miraculous.
Would they tell their grandkids
how their first kiss
was underneath my final light?
What will I be telling mine?