"The Survivor"
WARNING... MAY CONTAIN TRIGGERS I began writing this poem a couple of days after a life-threatening event while inpatient for treatment of bipolar disorder. "The Survivor" Infinite savage, but not eternal. Predator instincts hidden beneath competent smiles. Stalking in public places covering forbidden thoughts. False faces in the mirror, determined by bankrupt values. Its whisper deafens ears to hope, eyes to beauty, and souls from redemption. Prey snared in the whisper, and in the whimper of evil victorious, Grace is known by eternal realms far to come. But in the chaos of fate or faith, Some escape on wounded sanity, Surviving at times, unsure why. Lies retreat from life's worthy call. Proleptically carried to the eternal realm of grace, Wounded, but not dead, with love redefined. Infinite savage tamed to earthly time. Wounded, I am, but prey no more. Hope giving purpose and peace. Eyes and ears opened, soul swimming in grace! Mamed, but strong, reflectin...