Never good or great, just okay
And if I feel like mixing it up ill say
I'm fine, I'll be okay, or don't worry
But I'm never okay or fine
And I wish that there was someone to worry because sooner or later
Those deep dark secrets and those pains will crawl up my body and tear its way from my throat.
I can feel them rumble in their need to be released, I feel their hatred of me
Their need to be heard and felt and not just shoved down.
I feel them warm my belly till its as hot as steaming coals or the frosty bites that stop me in my tracks
But I push, push till they quiet down and I let myself believe that I have won, that I have gotten rid of them
That they will not resurface and boil over as the tears shed from my eyes
As the anger, hatred, sadness, and bleakness take over and the knife behind me starts to look nice, like a friend ready to give me reprieve and give them their revenge
When the pills begin to spill over cause my hand cannot hold that many and I choke on them with the burn of sweet oblivion thanks to Johnny walker, who ever he may be.
And I think about all the other releases that will quiet them down and put me to sleep, about the drugs that were so sweet to my sister that maybe if I just tried a little it would be sweet to me as well and maybe needle aren't so bad because they can deliver a warm presence of state and maybe if I snort just a little bit my mouth can relax and my brain will freeze and I won't have to wake.
That maybe, just maybe it will all pass and I won't have to say I'm okay, fine or hey I am a survivor because I won't have and I'll be in a place where surviving is not important and the feelings can't eat at me anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment