…beneath our skin

Beyond the rage, beyond the darkness
and beyond the violence that I hide behind my human facade
there lives a beast beneath my skin, a creature born before my sins
long before I learned to fear the flames
it hides behind the eyes I show and curls beneath my bones
it breathes in silence, waiting for something dark to show
a whispered insult, a bitter lie, and then it stirs
at first a tremor deep within, and then a tightening jaw
a restless fire denied its peace
as the vision narrows, the world becomes a field of arrows
the beast remembers every scar, every cruel goodbye
every closing door, every time my pride is compromised
it keeps a ledger, black and deep
of every promise that I could not keep
of every tear I hid in the dark
it knows the taste of humiliation, the bitter wine of desperation
it knows the weight, of hiding the pain
when I forgive, it quietly whispers ‘never trust again’
when love approaches, it asks what love will make me do
for it has seen the sweetest rose
become the thorn, that draws the blood
the beast is not a stranger here, it knows my fears
it stands where I can almost reach
the fragile line between control and the darkness of the soul
rage is not a flame that burns without a cause
it rises from despair, from being unseen, from years of silence
years of blame, from loving those who bring us shame
and rage can lie, it takes a wound and calls it war
it takes a fear and calls it strength
blithely promising that the pain will end
but only if we can break what will not bend
the beast has no tomorrows, no understanding of sorrow
it knows the thrill of being feared, but not the cost of broken trust
or what remains, when love turns to dust
I have seen it in the mirror, and there, reflected in the glass
I watched my gentler self, become a stranger’s face
I saw the beast and I knew its name
something ancient, something mine
a creature shaped by all the seeds that I have sown
by instincts older than regret and every wound I can’t forget
and I learned to watch it breathe, to hear the warning in its cry
without allowing it to rule my life
for strength is not the raised-up fist
nor vengeance dressed as righteousness
I will not kill the beast in me, it is a part of what makes me, me
but neither will I kneel and swear, that all its hungers should be fed
I will not let its fury, choose the words I speak
I will not make my pain a throne, and rule the world from it alone
let it remind me I am strong, let my conscience hold the reigns
for every human soul, contains a wilderness beneath its veins
a darkened wood, a moonless sky, but darkness is not all we are
we are the wild, the tame, the joy, the shame
and if one day the beast awakes
if rage comes roaring through my chest
and will not grant my heart its rest
I hope I find a deeper truth, a firmer ground
the beast may live beneath my skin, it may be ancient
fierce, and free, but it is not all, that I can be
©Ann Bagnall