What if my trauma wins?

What if the doubts swallow me whole
because this is all I have ever known?
The darkness all around,
not even the slightest sound,
but my heart beats like ocean waves
leaving me to tire,
begging me to drown.

They’ve made my chest feel heavy for hours,
for days,
for weeks,
sleep reeks of tears suppressed,
sheets a mess,
a failure at best—
no rest.

No rest ever
not even within the cushions of my mind.
They whisper my happiest thoughts
only to douse them in day old wine,
lighting the matches,
tearing the seams,
my faded dreams
sprawled all over the hardwood floor.

What if my trauma laughs?
Because I dared to challenge it
within the cages it built,
filling my mouth
with all the words I never had the guts to spill,
onto pages dripping with
nothing
but guilt.

When will my trauma leave?
When all is said?
When all is done?
When life is lost?
Just tell me when
and where to run
because I am tired of fighting a war
my anxious mind signed me up for.

gd