My head a boulder
Weighing me down,
My body numb
The fire’s gone.
Sufferring in silence,
Facing the ceiling,
Lying in my bed
Lying to myself:
there’s nothing more I can do –
But I can.
A river of guilt flooding
Every socket in my Brain,
A voice echoing “Shame! Shame!”
and the mind struggles
To block the passages
from the unconscious
To the conscious –
The activity wearing me thin,
The futility of it killing me softly;
I can never escape this hell –
unless
My memory were to be erased.
Then would I be able to stand
at the edge of the world – Free,
like a paper bag
thrown into the wind.
inaspiralofthoughts 