They can be dark
They can be bright
Reflecting all the brilliant colors from the
morning light

They can seem empty
They can seem full
Expressing the constant ebb and flow of
society's pull

Some will remain open
Some will remain forever closed
Waiting for that moment when it's OK to be
exposed

Some will invite rigidity
Some will invite change
Hanging on to the notion that "what is"
doesn't always have to remain

It's all about perception
Eyes come in many different sizes, hues, and
clarity
So, those windows to nowhere may also be the
windows to everywhere for me

The reflection I see
Is blurry at best
Marred by the dots of doubt
That have no way to connect

I am trying to methodically regain a link
Into the feeling of "being me"
Learning to embrace the (beauty) of all the
fallible pieces,
That make up my identity

I have put my (body) through a torturous Hell
Trying to obtain an unreachable goal
Yet it still manages to be forgiving enough
To keep mustering up (strength)
As I journey to become whole

I do not know when inner peace will come
And silence the screaming beast within
Though I have found an urgent will to fight for
connection
And (respect) my true self again

Growing up in a loud and boisterous world,
makes it easy to seek solace in the
shadows
It allows for a fine-tuning of the senses,
in order to mirror what those around you
show

Quietly and dutifully, you play nursemaid
to everyone else's needs
Eventually losing touch with that inner voice that pleads

Remaining consistently neutral and in-tune
with others, has seemingly served
you well
Though the waves of ignored and
forgotten emotions, uncontrollably start
to swell

So becoming comfortable projecting a
voice, that you never really had
Is quite the challenging and daunting task
to an introverted empath

The beginning is so unassuming
It's a faint desire to better oneself by
succumbing to "healthier" options both
mentally and physically
Or at least that's what we tell
ourselves

Once the introductions are over and
the pleasantries of obtainable goals
made, you become totally enamored by
the sense of accomplishment
That nagging whisper of assurance,
gratitude, and love keeps you
constantly striving for something
more
With that, the trap has been set

One goal turns to three, and three
turns quickly to ten
Now you are in the grips of an enticing,
vengeful, and all-consuming force that
is never satisfied
The whispers soon become screams
that berate your inadequacies and
open the floodgates for negativity
"Never Good Enough" becomes the
battle-cry of this addiction towards
self-deprecation

Intentions to stop are always there
However, chasing the ever elusive "last
goal" becomes your entire existence
You alienate yourself from any and all
who stand in the way of disordered
progress
Blinded by a strong conviction and
supposed self-improvement, you
cannot see the destruction ED craves
It devours every possible ounce of time
and energy a body has until there is
nothing left to give

Still not content, and louder than ever,
ED seeks complete annihilation and
your ultimate demise
Only through intervention,
enlightenment, and a shroud of hope
can the bond be broken with the beast
within
This clarity makes it possible to live
and fight another day

I Believe...Do You?

Time does not heal every gaping sore
Instead, it can create a festering wound that slowly seeps poison into every pore

Time cannot erase all the hideous pain
It rather gives a purpose for walls to be built in order to keep the mind sane

Time will not provide a safe haven from harm
Although, it can reinforce the locks on prison doors that no one can disarm

Time should have given me my freedom
Or at the very least, granted my parole

However, I have become uneasily comfortable with the internal terror
Whatever uncertainty lies beyond my confinement, scares me more so

Repair It...
Take this suffering
And take my pain
Let my poisonous mind
Be cleansed by the rain

Restore It...
Take this prison
And take my shame
Break down the walls
And to my defenses take aim

Soothe It...
Take this perfection
And take my mechanical ways
Become flexibly imperfect
And allow growth from change

Blond hair
Chuck Taylors
Boy multiplied by three

Morning Dew
Dirt clumps
Darkness covers everything

Things that are seemingly "run of the
mill", " normal", and "mundane"
May also be the precise source of
someone else's pain

Consciousness fades
Pain grows
Body can no longer fight

Invasion within
Hope retreats
Mind and soul take flight

None of us can presume to know the life
behind one's eyes
Let us "break the cycle", "be kind", and "love"
Then maybe, our scars will naturalize...