Cold splash, slap
the hard hitting, breath stealing reality,
put off, ignore, it attacks.
Lost lonely child
when the heartbreak breaks through,
locked away and hidden,
can't cower in bubble gum dreams
and candy coated self lies.
(so easy to lie to yourself)
Backed into a corner,
pushed against the wall
- spitting, screaming, crying.
It finds you, it breaks you
slowly devours you – maybe quicker.
We remember the shiny baubles
with fog hazed edges,
block out anything real, everything false.
(we blur those lines to sleep).
Slap in the face, and shaken awake,
the rug pulled out from under
the laughter behind back – cruel joke.
Never here, but always there
since it's created,
and believed and hoped for.
It's harsh light
that sheds reality,
the cruel mistress
(or maybe master)
when you realise, when you know
when you accept.
But you still don't like it.