broken boy,
let me cradle your
mind; let me be the evacuation
center you resort to when your soul
needs some rescuing. i will save a place
for your heart right between
the fissures running through the canyon
my hands create.
these padded walls do nothing to stop
those dreams; they won't
slow your tears or comfort you when the terrors
are too heavy to bury on your own. they'll just
absorb those screams you've been suffocated
by, the ones that make you bite your lip until
waves of crimson pain crash and flow
and you can taste boiling iron trickling down the cracks
in your worn lips.
broken boy,
i can't fix you. if only i could.
i wish that i could **** your pain through my veins,
let it poison me so that you could be liberated from
the demons clawing at your walls.
i can't.
i can only offer comfort on those dark days, when the
restraints you've placed upon yourself drive you to the brink
of madness. i can soothe you when your fingernails are ******
stubs and the monsters strip you of your soul. i can
slow the gears in your mind and do more than the
ticking, whirring of a broken-down brain to aid your sanity.
white cushioned walls can't ease your worries. they don't
guarantee exorcisms, and there's a no return on your stay
inside this vacant chamber chock-full of shadows.
hold on, broken boy. i know you'll
find that light at---