the silence is scary
cause it’s filled with things unsaid
Schrodinger, he had his cat
and I’ve got words stuck in my head

But are they there
are they alive
if kept deep under wraps

a light beneath a bushel
and a notebook filled with scraps

set the traps
the boobie kind
surprise
catch them off-guard

check the maps
disprove then find
a guise
to cover scarred

disfigured & deformed
I hide
behind facade

My soul all thunderstormed
you’d think I was
a Greek god

this lightning rod
I hold as scepter
this crown of
tempest rain

they call me the
Great Resurrector
for what I do with pain

breathe new life
into old wounds
lemon
salt & scrub

torture self
I’m so buffooned
can’t help it
that’s the rub

that’s the problem
that’s the cross
I’ve got to carry
coin to toss
like I said
so scary
loss

keep it moving
or gather moss

MT Pariti is the Co-founder, Editor-in-Chief, and President of The Scene Magazine. He is also a poet and writer and has developed his own “tumbling verse” style that he employs to entertain as much as disarm while he speaks on topics such as mental illness and trauma.  You can find him and The Scene on Instagram @mtpariti and @thescene.life.