I know this ritual by heart
It's the same routine
It's the same event
It's my desolate ritual
It's as though I'm sleep walking through the days
As though I'm in a comatose state while on my feet
Like I'm in a nightmare while trying to dream
I am the zombie of my neighborhood
The drone of my house
The puppet of my life
I am the ever changing person that somehow always comes back to the same ritual
The ritual that keeps me with the same flaws
The same regrets
The same worries, fears, and pain
It is what holds me back from changing into a better person
A better soul
A better human being for all and myself
The ritual is my black pit that takes away the joy of my past
The memories to my delight
The friendly gestures that once boosted my day
And any happiness that I had gained since the last one occurred
And when all has been taken, the ritual ends
It ends as quickly as it came and I continue on with a blank, unhappy slate
I am blank once again and whatever comes my way after is what becomes of my slate
The next events are scribbled onto the stone and determine when the next ritual comes
It could come the next day
The next week
Or the next month
But, when it does the slate will be wiped
All the joy gone
All the memories
Everything
All will be gone and I will be left sad and unconscious
For the ritual is a brutal one
It comes in waves of sorrow and pain
Regret and anger
Confusion and emptiness
The ritual is an unavoidable one
I fear it will always be around
That I won't have my memory to learn from
That I won't have my joy to remember
That I won't be able to become myself, because I am missing too many pieces
I fear the ritual is who I am
I fear the ritual.
YOU ARE READING
Inside the Minds of the Unspoken
PoetryA journey occurring over the course of three years in which unspoken thoughts can finally become reality.
