If I'm an emotional train wreck,
would you be a first responder?

If I die and lay in rest,
would you love me any longer?

I question myself constantly
wondering what I could become.
Should I be more than this,
or finally will I say that I'm done.

I want to quit
I want to stop

But I can't

I have a debt to pay
and a price that will not drop

So I'll keep at it
Until someone want me shot, dead
someone other than me.
I seem to be the only who can see beyond the ******* and lies that I tell
to myself
Every day

You can do it.
Just keep going.
You got this

So like I said,

I'm an emotional train wreck,
but are you my first responder?

They ask you again and again,
What happened? Tell me the whole story
And you repeat yourself
Each time thinking it’s been received
But then a new ear, a new clipboard,
And they make you tell it again.

“What happened” becomes more important
Than “what’s happening now?”
Because they care about the mechanism
More than the injury

So what will they do when you go radio silent?
When your heart breaks do you need to rehash how he hurt you,
Again and again for each secondary witness?
At what point does the sordid story end
And the sequel begin?
Or will the pursuit of healing,
The treating of trauma,
Forever be defined by
the mechanism of injury?