I want to string together beautiful words and
Sing a symphony to your beauty
But every time I try, the words form
A noose, winding themselves around my neck
And I choke.
I want for you to realize your worth and
See that no amount of empty validation can heal you
But my own hypocritical actions spit
In my face, erasing the mirage I have built
And I hesitate.
I want for you to find a voice and
Escape from your custom-built hell
But the thought of your leaving me becomes
Yet another monster which I cannot vanquish
And I succumb.
YOU ARE READING
Abditory
شِعرYou may only move forward once you let go of the past. I find that often, I bury my demons in my writing.
