How do I tell you?
How do I open the doors I had long since locked?
How do I trust myself to trust someone else again?
If every scar were a story I'd fill shelves.
If every bruise was a song this melody would never cease.
If every look into my eyes was a trip through the soul and back I laugh at how swiftly you'd get lost.
A blanket grin covers the pitiful sobbing.
A facade expression masks where the tears wish to pour.
A perfected act buries the broken form and upholds the unspoken oath that this show must continue.
Can I direct my own scene?
Can I write my own script?
Can and form of this world be shaped by me?
If all the world's a stage what role have I landed that damned me in this manner?
If all it takes is hope and self confidence what is the gaping loneliness and doubt that engulfed me?
I see the lights that never spell my name.
I hear the cheers that aren't for my feat.
I feel the love gust by unknowing of my presence.
I smell the roses thrown in ovation without my direction in mind.
I taste the bittersweet of another tomorrow that replicates yesterday.
A cycle. A whirlpool. A twister takes me round and leaves me in a dizzy haze.
My head compresses and free thought escapes in favor of the new and fearlessly bold.
How do I tell you?
YOU ARE READING
Words I've Kept
PoetryThis is my coping mechanism. I love poetry and feel like it's the only anchor for me some days. I thank those who have me strength to share. I write about Trauma and dark moments of my life so if those aren't for you neither is this.
