The Stirrer

My presence upsets your balance
Of you, I am not aware
Except, in passing
When deflecting your
Would be, wounds

I'm a reality
From which, you hide
A bad picture
That has survived destruction
A living image, of your guilt
The baby, you long ago, aborted

Change, is something you desire
A relief, of a constant reminder
Of which I , represent to you
What a pity, your blinded heart

Your pain, I cannot feel
Only you have to live, knowing
Deep down, that you can never
Touch, my spirit

© Copyrights G. Jones 2012

Author's Note: The In the Weird Series