Analysis of Iris

My portraits of the past
remind me of all I have lost.

How cruel this world is
once you have given everything,
and have nothing left to comfort yourself,
as you pace around the barren,
haunted hallway of your life.

All I'll ever be is dancing with ghosts,
holding them close,
wishing for one more day of life,
yearning to hear their heartbeat
ever once more.

All I ever needed was to be loved,
unconditional and true,
its light of a thousand suns
carrying me through
the darkest of nights.

Part of me longs for the mother I've never had,
fearful of accepting the one
who is just as broken as I am,
who made me broken
in her brokenness.

Part of me longs for the love
that will never be,
the blossoms that will never flourish,
the taste of bittersweet memories,
tormenting my subconscious.

Part of me wishes so desperately
to be free from this world,
evanescent amongst the stars,
lost to the patterns
of time and space.

On this day, 33 years ago,
I was born into this world,
unwanted and cumbersome,
begging for the comfort
of a mother's love.

On this day, 33 years ago,
I was born into this world,
sleepy-eyed and hopeful,
eager to never let go of my father's hand
as he vanished into the void.

It's so hard to believe in yourself
when no one else does.

you're on your own kid,
and the clock is ticking away
ever so slowly,
ever so briskly,
in fleeting moments.

Tick, tock.
...Tick, tock.
......Tick, tock.

I am but a remnant of mother nature.
a grain of sand in the vastness of time.
a moment after everything began.
a distant memory after everything ends.
and so it shall be ever more.