The Heirloom of my Life

A rather long poetic essay reflecting on a darker view of what life represents. In the constant midst of sacrifice, what is left for some of us to hold onto?

I would stand over his grave, crying like a child though so many years had passed.  We didn't have that much time really, but he was all I really had.  My blood father had left both my sister and I behind.  That really didn't matter because Darrell had come in like a hero to pick up the pieces of what would have remained a broken life.  I loved him in a way only a boy could; fear, respect, benevolence, as I should.  When he passed, a part of me died.  All my life since then has never been quite right.  I was ignored from that moment on.  The world pandered to my mother, depressed and vagrant in her thoughts.  The world gave all to my sister, her voice being the loudest, the most difficult to drown out.  I was all but forgotten, alone to succumb, drowning in the misery of a life that would never again be alright. 

 

               The years have passed and I have felt alone all this time.  I cannot hold onto any companions, I let all my friends go.  So used to abandonment, I have come to expect it in every moment.  Left to my own demise, I sought a way to take the place my father left.  I became this terrible thing so I could never crumble again.  I built inside my heart an empire made of sand.  As my passion's inflamed, that whole world turned into solid glass.  Miles thick, eons high, I lived alone in my castle a million lie's nigh. 

 

               Some years had passed and I fell into a bad sort.  But I had found hope in the life of a secret affair.  She was so beautiful, a life so rare.  Her eyes like ice, it could quench the fires inside me whenever they got to high.  I loved her more deeply then I have ever loved since.  That was my fault and I pay the price with each new romance.  She died in my arms, a victim to tyrants and my own inability to do right.  I had my vengeance, but nothing brought her back.  She died in an infinite pool of blood, my child still locked deep inside.  I remember her face to this day, the way her voice drew me in.  I have never let myself feel again, the way I felt for her.

 

               Time ticks on, the sun continues to rise.  Nothing from my life ever mattered to the universe; I am insignificant it its eyes.  The decade that proceeded was full of betrayal and deceit;  me trying in vain to find another who could mean as much to me.  Everyone fell short; living their lives for the thrill of causing others pain.  I have been cheated on, demonized, demoralized, deceived.  I have been lied to, abandoned, abused and sacrificed.  By everyone I have ever cared for, I have been betrayed; left in agony never to be looked upon again. 

 

               I look back to all that has happened, all the awful things I have endured.  There are so few happy memories that are not tainted with a blood which obscures.  Happiness has left me as I come to terms with my life's morbid truth.  I have nothing to hold onto, nothing to live for.  I have no purpose, and that has shaken my faith to the floor.  I believe in a higher power, though I don't know what it is.  I just realize it has no care for us, or maybe just me, and I know not why.  My entire lineage is gone, save but a few.  I have no living children to call my own and I am getting too old to rebuild. 

 

               No one can know the failure I feel;  every love having betrayed.  Every hero now buried;  nothing to live for.  Nothing to hold on to; without hope.  Without fear; beyond any redemption; beyond any way.  No path left before me.  No purpose left to take.  And if I die, if die I must, I know nothing of what waits for me, no will to believe it is right.  I have no fear of death, only the empty void, the prison cell with no key.  Remembered by no one, not even a word inscribed in life's eternal tree.