I stand at the precipice of war with a rusted armour too fragile to protect; it causes more pain than protection. But fight I must. The battle has started and bravery is required, else I remain within the towers of my own torment from the demons that sabotage my every thought. My heart is fragile, yet strangely strong. She yearns for my trust and I give her a prison. She feels dangerously wide open. My gut feels like it’s rotting and being eaten by a swarm of eels, circling my intestines without pause. I am alone. I am without being understood. I am a mad person. The terrain here is unkempt. Perilous. Precarious and disastrous. For all who enter I warn you, you will not leave unscathed. You speak a language I cannot grasp but so desperately need to learn if I am to, what do you call it, connect? The current does not follow a known route for connection to occur for the wires are not wired in a fashionable way. So I attempt to imitate but my acting skills aren’t all that great to be sustainable and I’m now exhausted. And this rusty armour is weighing me down and I just want to lie down. Would you stroke my face until I sleep? Hold my heart in your delicate hands until I learn to weep? How does acceptance work when your heart wants what it cannot have? Is letting go just another way of saying I’m giving up and settling for less? I’m not made for this world. Nor this planet. Take me home where I belong. Please.
Categories:
social themes