A Poem

By Michael Brigham

You drift through the fog
Walking through life
yet merely following the path
You do not stop to admire the scenery
for you are only intent
on survival.
Your brow is furrowed
and no smile graces your face
the face of a youth whose childhood
was snatched away
by the monster
that lurks in your soul.
You wear heavy armor,
a burden for your young shoulders
to protect yourself
from society.
But your armor,
a chain mail of silence and denial
has been battered by life
and itŐs sharp edges now cut into your skin
destroying you.
But you cannot take it off,
you are too scared.
And the armor,
used for protection,
cannot block the attacks
of yourself...your worst enemy.
Your emotions sacrificed,
your soul hardened
all in the name of protection
from the evil that is not evil
and the curse that is not a curse;
they are always attached to you.
You damn the bastard
who said
"wherever you go, there you are."
because you know it is true.
So you keep walking,
alone on the path
and hiding in the dark closet.
All the while
the oppression of the dark secret
eating you from the inside
and shutting yourself of from the world,
the world that hates you
and wishes you were dead.
And now,
you begin to think,
maybe that is also what you wish.

Michael Brigham can be reached at racenut@bright.net.
©1996 Oasis Magazine. All Rights Reserved.