A poetry collection – by Catherine Moscatt

Silence

My mind is a machine that cannot rest

A tool that always overheats

Constantly whirring

Constantly humming

Like a house on the corner

Of two busy streets

There’s never quiet

Never peace

I see it

But it’s out of reach

Confusion, noise, it’s all I know

A flower buried by the snow

I’m suffocated

Asphyxiated

My mind is dark and complicated

I dream of better things to come

A place my troubled thoughts can run

A mind not damaged by such violence

I dream one day that I’ll find silence

 


 

Do Not Disturb

Please come close but don’t disturb

The pain that lurks inside my chest

Where there are scars that cannot heal

And demons that refuse to rest

 

Please come close but hold on tight

There is never peace for very long

The voices tend to get too loud

The feelings always get too strong

 

Please come close but you should know

This isn’t someplace people stay

It’s haunted by the memories

Of the people that I drove away

 

Please come close but watch your step

My pain could cause you to fall

So please come close but guard yourself

Or maybe don’t come close at all


 

Promises

You promised me a garden

Where the flowers never die

You told me if I trusted you

Then together we could fly

But at my feet are wilted flowers

Battered by the weather

And I see no wings upon my back

No, not a single feather

 

You promised me a kingdom

You told me I could be the queen

We’d live together in a castle

Where true love would reign supreme

But there’s been a revolution

And I now am locked away

My voice is like your love for me

Growing weaker every day

 

Now I know that every word you said

Was not to be believed

Your words were only hollow shells

From the time they were conceived

Because you carved a knife from my own trust

And then you cut me open

I learned that promises of love

Are better left unspoken


 

1st Corinthians 6

If my body is a temple

Then this one’s been defiled

Scars along my body

Marks from nights too wild

If my body is a temple

Then this one is defaced

The innocence’s been taken

By trust that’s been misplaced

If my body is a temple

The heathens have free reign

And I enjoy the pleasure

Intermixed with all the pain

If my body is a temple

The walls gleam white no more

They have now been tainted red

From the blood stains on the floor

If my body is a temple

Then my fate has been decided

And so have my parishioners

The pathetic and misguided

If my body is a temple

The foundation starts to crack

We are going straight to hell

And we aren’t coming back


 

Eight Years Old

I wish I could remember

But I was eight years old

The only recollection?

The stories that I told

I remember rage

I remember fear

I remember suffering

I remember tears

But I don’t know what happened

Or if anything did

And I really can’t remember

Cuz I was just a kid

I don’t want to acknowledge

The pain that I still hold

I wish I could remember

But I was eight years old


 

catherinemoscatt

Catherine is a 20 year old college student studying counseling and human services. When she is not writing poetry, she enjoys playing the piano, loud music and terrible horror movies. She has been writing poetry since she was fourteen.
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2 Comments Add yours

  1. I suspect silence is overrated.

    Like

  2. Frances Vernieri says:

    It’s as if you were made of glass…..I love you Cath

    Like

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