My words are failing me
I write and write
But nothing makes sense.
The rhythm of my pen seems to be off key
The melody is incomplete
I fail to fully express myself
As if I’ve lost the authenticity of my old writings
As if i lost myself trying to fix my brokenness
It hurts.
It hurts like paper cuts and my toe stubbed against the hard white wall
It hurts like me falling asleep on a pillow dampened by hushed cries
I
Am
Blocked
Cut off from myself
It hurts like the reality of my nonexistent relationship with my father
And how I fill that void with breaking boys’ hearts
It hurts like my mother’s never ending stress, bills that pile up
The material things I want vs necessities , her shoes giving up on her after years of use
It hurts like the pills I swallowed in the hopes of breathing my last breath and the disappointment upon waking up to a mental incarceration
It stings like the words my grandmother throws around unintentionally
And the laughter of kids who didn’t approve of my silent ways
It hurts like the recurring visions of the shack and the baggage I dragged with me afterwards
It hurts like me being scared of water, fearing it pull me under
and crash over me like the promises that were never kept
It hurts like me being unable to speak because I fear no one will listen
It hurts like my heart beating hard against my chest and the doctor not prescribing anything