There is not enough room for Me
Inside of this hollowed out shell
I know my place; I’ve played it well
So long, I’ve made pro of my covering
With aching heart and trembling hands
This forced confession claws its way out
Pits of hell, with levels and degrees
In darkest hours, upon my bruised knees
Energy deplete. Done. I surrender in defeat.
My care too much, and love too deep
Must remain under lock and key
Shovel in hand, cruelest earth buries alive
I wish it were as simple as protecting me
Futile efforts prove largest disappointment
Who can deny the heart of my ripest fruit?
These accusations the most unbearable torment
It robs my only shred of identity’s employment
Withdrawal: I’ve made my bed and now must sleep.
Beautiful and sad; I love the last lines very, very much. <3
ReplyDeleteThanks Stella. These last lines are the result of living on the other side of illness. I needed to see this face-to-face in order to understand my own reflection. And once I was able to do this, I was the one looking ugly. In order to survive, I must always keep the illness seperate from the person. And I must also remember, no matter how bad the words become, I do not need to identify myself with them.
ReplyDeleteSo, I must confess, that after the wrath of scorn wears off, love can in fact conquer all. I'm at the part where I'm not sure what I'm doing, but at least I'm doing...if you know what I mean.
I'm going to send my comment in an e-mail, as it's too long to post here! :D
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