Bio
Lisa Arnold has been writing poetry and short fiction for decades. She is a published and former Pushcart Award nominated poet and an accomplished online article writer. A collection of her poetry “Echoes of My Soul” was published in 2012 by Casa de Snapdragon. Her poem “Christmas Morning” is featured in the collection “Christmas Word Gifts” also published by Casa de Snapdragon. Her work can be read at Micropoetry.com, Literary Heist, Poem Hunter and at her online poetry forum. She has been writing about rebirth of self, awakening, belief, homelessness, poverty, blight, equality, alcoholism, aloneness, isolation and societal issues for decades. Currently, she is working on a several writing projects. She enjoys writing at night when the world around her goes quiet.
Trigger Warning
disguised lies hiding inside the fabric
tattered and shredded, not much left to sew
fragile hands try to cultivate some kind of substance
fractured, mangled, beautiful minds coexist among the ruins
heading towards uncertain futures, unforeseen obstacles
keep us slipping and going in the wrong direction
been lost for so long, we took to walking backward
trying to scope out an escape or semblance of light
look at all the lies you tried to sell us, almost got me to offer up
them rumpled dollars for that crooked road paved in idiot’s gold
thought you had me believing in your untruths, oh, wouldn’t you like to see me
falling, crashing and burning. Please, if you’re timid, pull that mask up over your eyes
I am standing back up on my feet again, a little battered and bruised
entangled deceptions fuddling with the ebb and flow, want to see you packed
up and gone, so thoughts trapped inside my mind can flourish, veiled cloak
has been removed, face the mirror you poor delusional fool and see
the deceit of your blatant dishonesty has finally been exposed
I wonder why you aren’t able to grasp that you have lost that power and illusion
funny, you thought you owned us all, hear me whisper reality in your ear,
“you never did and never will possess that kind of authority”
mercy probably isn’t going to save me, and it won’t rescue you either
there isn’t any pudding in the mix, but the proof is stirring in the stew
keep your fake sympathy and corrupt apology. I just want you to step aside
and take note, I am not a meek one, and someday I, too, shall prosper