I may have crushed all the delicate
Crap
of my soul
that "ever yearning for you"
that washes up on window panes
the constant deflation,
cowering
chained-up-into-deep-corners-of-destruction-and-self loathing pain.
I plummet face first into the ground.
scuffed skin splintered with stone, a few broken bones,
and a nervous chuckle
are the first breaths of liberation.
We can take ownership of our own well being. Live, cope, and you'll survive.