No Conscience



I was gifted this image with the prompt of “conscience” — something I have been struggling with internally for a long while.  These words poured from me – no sieve to catch the granules of ridicule and no salve to soothe the burn of truth.

Split into. What the Devil do I do?  Never the saint, always the sinner but redemption never matters. The light splinters my darkness into more dangerous and ragged fragments.  I choose not the path of least resistance as that keeps me from consummating with my depraved shadow.  The voices I give names and develop plots to keep me entertained.  But I deny myself a conclusion as that would force a hand that I hold in illusion.  The guilt seeps into the ink but dries faster than the masterful kiss of a forbidden lover. If only I believed in the power of confession … yet, I must because I am on my knees before you begging to be punished for crimes I have committed in poetic verse.  I pluck off the cries of the wounded like pieces of lint and flick them into the aftermath of a paradise in which I am deluded.  Split into.  What in God’s name do I do?  


  1. I think many people struggle with the same, or similar, feelings. They just are in denial or don’t want to openly admit it. In my opinion, sometimes we just need to let it all out, let the pain come unfiltered. Even if you don’t have the answer, just the action of unfiltered release can be therapeutic.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I would agree that to use poetry as a barb is pretty nasty, to direct it at a specific individual would be horrific. Women often recount abuse and how they feel but I don’t see that as using poetry as a weapon more a way of coming to terms with a dreadful experience 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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