Hemorrhage
Is this not a hemorrhage?
What do mean you can't see any bleeding?
I'm bleeding.
Bleeding so much it hurts,
You understand my pain? Then why don't you help me fix it?
Source of the pain: unknown
Symptoms: Pain everywhere
Every test closes doors,
Every examination rules out possibilities,
I've been exposed to radiation, chemicals, bright lights, and hundreds of opinions...
Yet I keep bleeding.
I can't stop it. If only I knew where the source was.
I would stem the flow with my own hands,
Bandage it, stuff something in, cauterize it.
Anything to stop the bleeding
I would not need all these quacks,
I would not feel as if I was losing myself,
Slowly bleeding out everything
I am cut deep.
Never mind that I can't see the wound
A cut so deep must scar physically, must have opened the flesh
I always feel the wound, always. I just don't know where it is,
But I know it's there
It won't heal, won't scar, won't fade
Won't let me accept, won't let me move on, won't let me forget,
This wound that causes me pain. This wound that keeps bleeding.
Tell me that this is not a hemorrhage.
Unable to stem the flow
I lose so much every time
You claim that nothing is wrong.
Look at me I'm bleeding out from every orifice, every pore
Everything hurts.
I want it all to just stop.
Since when does my body listen to me?
It continues to throw, waste, purge
All that I am.
Some say that bleeding is good for the soul
Doctors used to say this about wounds.
Before the advent of modern medicine,
Usually before they administered leeches and commenced bloodletting.
No more.
I beg no more,
I've bled enough to fill swimming pools,
Enough that I fear that oceans could be filled solely by me,
Sometimes I fear that there is nothing left.
Which drop will be the last?
The last drop I am able to endure leaving me,
Before I break.
Still they claim this is not a hemorrhage.
They can't see anything wrong with me
Is only seeing believing?
Please, please let this stop,
I'm scared I will bleed out.
YOU ARE READING
I wish you'd listen
PoesíaSometimes our loved ones cause us the most grief. And sometimes there's nowhere to run from grief, anger, and anxiety. Growing up can be a difficult journey filled with change, aches, and loss. These poems are the introspective thoughts and memorie...
