I struggle so hard with keeping my darkness inside of me
Yet it's always out of my grasp
I had to dig myself out of it
Spent a lifetime reaching inside of myself
Searching for the source
To plug it up
To stop it
To do anything
I can't find it
I don't know where it all started,
It's so entangled with my sense of self
I can't cut it out
It's not a sickness
I can't medicate it away
Can't suppress it
Overcome it
It's a cancer, growing inside me
Infecting everything
Leaving a trace everywhere
It's a child with paint
The walls of my soul a white canvas
Waiting
And it's so stupid
The way my brain attacks itself
Because really,
This started here.
In me, somewhere,
I caught a sound;
Luring me,
Lulling me
Condemning me.
But I can't fix it
I can't stop
I'm made of dominoes someone else tipped
But I'm the one pulling the strings
Someone planted the seed
But that someone is my brain
With ears too big for a child so curious
So insistent
That everything was possible
That Heros could be People
And every person could help
And it would all turn out okay
A child coaxing others off cliff-sides
Off ledges, reaching out a pudgy hand
And grasping at the air
Until you returned your feet to the ground
Maybe someone handed me the paint
But I chose the color
I am crimson and grey
Heartache in hues
Visceral
You know, I don't think I was wrong
The openness of a child who knew too little
It's a beautiful thing
Perhaps the world was too cruel to such a child
Or maybe too fast for it
The pressure of it all
Maybe stirring, commanding
Is everything a child shouldn't be
But I hope breathing
Will still be okay
When the next kid steps forward
To take my place
Oh little mouse
The world is just as big as you think it is
YOU ARE READING
After (2024)
Short StoryIt's a story about recovering from depression. My journey to stay happy after a long couple years. I write mostly poetry. If you want to read more about my struggles click my profile, I have one published story detailing my 2023 year. It's still har...
