Her: will I write? ( The Kind Of Broken That I know)

I’m broken on the inside—

It’s the undercurrent of fear that consumes every light that comes from me
It’s the undercurrent of anxiety that runs deeply through my body
It’s that sudden jolt of overwhelming darkness that nullifies my world of reality
It’s that surge of energetic downloads that hit me like violent waves they come to drown me
It’s that peaceful house that collapses burying me under the rubble of multiple illusions
I feel broken inside.
That I curl up in my bed for hours just waiting for my body to calm down
My restricted movement can only reach a pillow, and more pillows.
Pillows that I keep close to my body for warmth and security.

It’s the undercurrent of voices from people who tell me what’s essentially right for me
Them telling me they’ve been to the place where I have gone to myself
That they knew what to do exactly if only I wasn’t too stubborn to handle.

Many people know a lot. It seems I am the only one who’s kept in the dark so utterly useless
Worthless that I…
Have lost my appetite.

It’s the undercurrent of doubt and unlimited assumptions that keep multiplying in my head
Silently feeding my thoughts with those forgotten memories of my past life
It has killed my zest for life.

What you may have witnessed were layers of thick veils of illusions; replicating my day to day realities, projected even more so you’d think that the person in charge was still alive, healthy and happy.

The devil sits on my shoulders, my inner demons have made my body their own battlefield
Each time they strike, is a grand volume of inflicted pain that I must endure
They said what I needed was love
Oh Love.
My body has been infected, corrosive enough that I have no more space to house such love
How on earth can love be enough to fill an empty vessel, to fill a void that’s all encompassing?
How would you understand a shadow that you can only see when light’s being cast and where there’s none, it becomes unknown to man?

That’s why I am broken inside.

Such brokenness comes then disappears…
It’s not a tangible thing that you can grab and hold
Not visible for you to mark it with your healing words
It’s illusive, evasive, preemptive.

It comes instantly, it stays in seasons, then disappears painfully
Where it hurts, It would hurt
Where there’s none it hurts even more
What’s broken can’t be touched, what can’t be touched is left to waste until it gets destroyed

Healing is a wishful anticipation of something that will never ever dissipate.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s