The cracking of your bones,
sounds you hear when you crouch.
Trying to protect yourself from whom?
Your spine can bend
and extend
no further, protruding out
ready to snap, you twist and you moan and you groan
when will this stop?


You feel as frail as a bird
One that has fallen after its very first flight


The cracks are what you hear
when hope is lost.
You feel like your weakening will
can weaken
no further.


stop
just stop.


Listen here
Don’t listen to yourself breaking
Don’t slip through these cracks
Standing up is now your cause
Hope is not lost
So sit up and straighten your back


The more you crouch, the more it hurts
That corner you’re attached to is not your solace
or quiet place
you crouch there, only in the cold embrace
of your crumpled shirt


Corners don’t shelter you from your fears;
they cage you in with them.
They widen and stretch the cracks on your skin
Allowing pain and judgement to seep in
Cracks are gateways letting the water in…
Water that dampens your flame, your fire
and Hope
a precious thing


You’re hidden yet left wide open
Stuck in purgatory
This liminal hell
You hear the tolling of your own death knell


Are these cracks the
pain before your rebirth
the shedding and flaking
of your skin
which will leave you behind, a rejuvenated being?


You decide if these cracks will only exist
as a reminiscence of the passing pains
or will your thoughts dictate
that these cracks originate
from the epicentre of who you are?


Will you let this cancer-like spreading of the cracks continue?
Or will you stand up and straighten your back
To close up the cracks
and save you from You