There is a tiny voice at the deepest darkest void that calls out for hope although it is one I often avoid. Instead I poison myself with alcohol, intoxicating me until I am irrelevant, and oblivious yet I am not insidious. I want to listen to the voice within that beseeches me to stop my sins but instead I have another drink, numbing the pain and silence, consistently on the brink. On the verge of something exciting yet always a few steps back, it is almost as if I dare to react and risk undergoing my own personal massive attack. I am unsure how to continue when I can feel my heart breaking in my chest, shattering into a million pieces; why couldn't it be as easy for me as it is for the rest? My journey has led me to fleeting moments of hope where I could feel a new sun dawning on my day but then it has also victimized me, raped me, beaten me, and made me its prey. I am only human, how much more am I supposed to take? How much must I be forsaken by God's salacious snake? It bites me on the daily, proof for all that I have done wrong, yet I continue to march along, smile plastered upon my face llke nothing could possibly go wrong. I pray one day I listen to this voice that calls for hope so that I can become one with my future and no longer viewed as a joke. Tunnel vision heart of mine just sees what lies ahead, but at this rate all that I can see is another sibling dead.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
Comments