Blog Post // 2024-04-05

The Best I Can Do At Poetry...It's Cathartic

At one point I was going to turn these words into a song, but I am not talented in that way, so it never happened. (Don't worry I am okay)

Can you feel? Does it even matter?
Shut them down. That’s what’s expected.
But can you find them when you need to find, you? When they pale and fade can they be retrieved?
Pain, suffering, injury, sacrifice.
Told yourself this is just life.
Told yourself it is better if you aren’t the one holding the knife.
Do you heal? Do you even bleed?
Trapped inside. No one to confide.
What is this life?
Hostility, shame, inadequacy, blame.
Told yourself to be strong, but is there a limit? Is this wrong?
Can I see through the haze? Truly let go of pain.
Somehow I feel like it is my fault. I should have done better.
Should have put on more Armour. Shouldn't have let my guard down.
How do you deal with such failure? We are all failures afterall.
But this is a part of me I don't like. The part that is too sincere, that thinks too deeply, tries too hard.
The part that holds on to determination even if it is tearing me to pieces.
Why do I think I need to be this tough?
Even when it is just me. When I am alone, I tell myself lies to justify actions. I allow myself to get pushed down and down until you can barely see any part of me. Why?
If my wounds were deep in my skin, if a tourniquet couldn’t stop the bleeding, If my skin was blue, if my breathing was slowing would I know I needed.....