the hurt never goes away
it simply dissolves
into a vague or fleeting feeling
—one you can’t quite
put your finger on
like when trying to interpret
a painting on a wall
seemingly evolving
over the course of time
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
before I begin let me
go back up to the very beginning
where weapons of war
were as rudimentary
as the very act of rape
how can you write about hunger
without ever going hungry
how can you write about death
without first dying
there is no poetic justice
in these once-upon-streets
forever bustling with a sensation
you can no longer describe
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
so much dark emotion lives
deep within us
locked away from centuries past
idling by and unafraid
able to unleash itself
most unexpectedly
almost anything can spark
its wickedness
awakening from dormancy
and revealing bloody secrets
only unknown ancestors
ever knew subsisted
like a lion suddenly enraged
instinctively
you rush from out of the bushes
rip apart the innocent lamb
quietly devouring
any remnant of yourself
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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