Lyrical Sunday - Lines

This week's poem is one that I wrote about a year ago. It's on the blog somewhere but I thought it was better than the other "line" poems I have written this week. I've edited it slightly...

I'm looking forward to reading your contributions, don't forget to leave a link in your comment.

My Lines

My lines are self-drawn.
They used to be in indelible ink,
now they are mostly in pencil.
Some, though, will always be permanent. 
I hope if I travel along them far enough, I will find a break in them.
That they too will fade
and I will be able to cross over and tackle the next one.

My lines are self-drawn
 but made thicker by them.
Those unseen, unheard and unknown judgements that do not exist in reality.
 I perceive them as real.
I see, hear and know them.
It is these that cause the most pain and fear.
It is these that are the most harmful.

I can work at drawing in pencil,
eraser ready at hand.
But they are, seemingly, highlighters that cover the pencil
making the lines permanent. 

My lines are self-drawn.
Yet I draw them for others.
They are invisible.
They exist.
They take their toll.
Some are crossed with ease, others never are.
Never will be.
I don't know how to undraw them,
Nor how to not draw them.

My borders are self-drawn.
They need to be indelible but aren't.
 I set them up and they drift or fade when faced with reality. 

By trying to cross the lines, I cross the borders.
I wish I didn't have to.
I wish they were immutable.
They are my sanity and my worth.

© 2012 Latte Junkie