Stone By Bitter Stone Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

I shape the thoughts inside my brain.
They rumble like thunder bolts which
are crashing into the decadent world.
It is difficult to believe in happiness
when the dry iced moaning perpetuates
unholy truths that may not be forgotten.

So many detailed seconds wasted.
So many adventures never achieved.
Looking back is not all it should be.
There are people I have abused, hurt.
Others ignored, emotionally attacked.
I thought I was clever then, a sarcastic
artist in love with my self-created myths.
In truth, I was just a wounded terrorist
striking out to keep my reality hidden.

Funny how we change as we grow older.
What we once thought now seems foreign.
Black and white truths faded to soft grey.
Perspective defined by life, by experience.
Truth once believed redefined, discarded.
I am not able to undo what I have done.
Not able to wash away actions and words
I once tossed out so vividly and casually.

I am able to ask forgiveness, to be absolved.
Instead of standing arrogant, kneel in prayer.
Be the man that God intended me to become.
Carry on, with what little time I have left,
trying to be as humble and kind as possible.
I shape the thoughts inside my brain.
They tumble like grieving tombstones of
perpetual illness, stone by bitter stone.