How can I describe what so many seem to see?
Hair pulling, nail biting,
Knots upon knots upon tightly wound chords within me
Blood is thick,
Yet my heart is quick,
And beats in ways I am sad to know.
I know I am not alone in this fight
My world is empty as dark is the night
As the drama that wraps inside my soul
Blooms ten fold
So does the curtains pull
And the stage is set
And the lights shine bold.
A train races a track
Its wheels clanking against the wood grain and iron
The lights ding, the whistle screams,
All that keeps it going
I used to think that perhaps I was a puzzle
Missing a piece
Ill fitting and fuddled.
I am a romantic without a poem to write
A lyricist with no music to strike
Up a plethora of words
Wrapped around my mind
Damn the pen
Damn the heart
Damn my kind.
Beneath this venire of smug disinterest
A hope that I could perhaps make a difference
That my words could possibly untangle
The hours of trauma that have caused me to mangle
My life and my passions into darkness and dread
Until that little voice whispers
Better off dead.
I will not succumb to the urge.
It passes through me
Like an electrical surge.
Enough to keep my mind at war.
I wonder often,
How much longer can I keep these off me?
How long can I stomach the strength to keep fighting?
I have always forced myself to see the other side.
I have known my strength will never resign.
Yet how tired,
How helpless it feels,
To be lost in a whirlwind and drowned into darkness
Where all that awaits you is bleak and is heartless.
Yet there is light
There is light.
I end it here,
But take this as my fight.
Now will never be my last night.