The sorrows are getting old
I’m no longer recognizable
For years, I’ve been encouraging myself
Encouraging myself to bloom again
But it seems impossible
Days are becoming night
The warm is becoming cold
This deadheading session has been lingering
It’s been years since I’ve seen myself bloom
Bloom in a field of flowers
Flowers I used to hate but now trying to love

These days are becoming more tiring
The word, ‘strong,’ is no longer in my vocabulary
I wonder what it feels to not have sadness in your heart
What does it feel to not fall apart?
I’m told this is human but if this is how living feels
I wonder if dying feels like heaven
Because right now, here on earth
This feels like a living hell

Standing in front of me is proof that love does not exist
That when love isn't expressed to the body
The body will decay and become a walking corpse
I am slowly decaying as I keep pushing love away from me
Afraid to become open and admire the compassionate that is being shared with me
Shared for me
But standing in front of me, my reflection, is proof that love does not exist
Does not exist to broken souls like the reflection that stands in front of me

When does the sitting in the dark stop?
When does the feeling of being a burden stop?
Can someone please tell me, I’ve been seeking answers for a long time
I will finally like to come to peace with the loneliness that rests in my heart

Trauma Inspires

Death to the naivety is easy as they don’t understand
But death to the understanding is just a on going cycle
A cycle we cannot break
A cycle that comes as a surprise but is expected at the same time