At the dam

by

Candi Timmerman

I can sit here in what appears to be perfect peace while inside a storm rages.
I am not beautiful to the world I exist in; my peace and serenity aren’t what they perceive as contentment.
I am driven and wild, pure and unholy.
If I were to lay down my insides for you, they would be shaky and unsure- black and bleeding..
But my façade- the thing you see right now- is not the broken girl I am on the inside.
The thing I show you is hard, still intact. She is bitter but still breathing, afraid but still trying.
The thing I am to you will never be who the girl really is_but you see, that alone is my protection,
the thing;
Not my hardness,
But my mystery.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Extinction is forever
by: Francis Duggan
from: Wonthaggi, Victoria, Australia

To visit all of Candi Timmerman's poems, click HERE

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