Mud is Spent

The sediment of emotionality

The dregs of painful past

The rhymes I've written about it

That make the feeling last

To wade through all the detritus 

That was caught up in the flood

The passion and the intensity

But beneath it, all the mud

The confusion of reality

Of behaviour to be ashamed

It exists within the waters of 

The poems that fill my page

And when the flow has spent itself

And clear waters sent to sea

I am left with my transgressions

That are there for all to see

Steel boots surround my broken heart

When I survey what has been left

It takes a certain discipline 

Not to be completely bereft

'Cause I know that there are negatives

But I know I'm not alone

And when I filter all the water

I can see and can atone