And back it comes...
My head is aflame, muscles taut,
Hands shaking too terribly
To make a cup of tea -
I suppose I'm beyond the stage
Where that would help, anyway.
I already took a hot bath,
Spent some time distracting myself,
Keeping busy,
But it's difficult to keep moving,
And only grows harder as it is time to sleep.
I closed my eyes,
Then forgot to breathe,
Tears springing into my eyes,
I considered texting a friend, but it's 3am.
I am enough of a burden as it is.
The little blade calls to me,
So I take it, and I cut.
It's a bit of a mess, it's a lot of a mess,
But it's easy enough to wipe up.
A bandage hides those cuts,
Like dirt swept under a rug.
This used to be enough to calm down -
Why can't I just stop and breathe now?
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
