Sep 122016

Shattered and shaking I couldn’t get the figurative yet really real feel of the steal out of my hands enough, with broken hearts and eyes that couldn’t barricade the tears I tossed them back to their owners knowing it wasn’t who I was to control a lock, to control anything at all.

The uneasy fear of being responsible quickly replaced by the instant regrets screaming inside my head “what have you done?” while simultaneously being happy to be free from the responsibility of it all. My heart crying tears from failing and my soul locking itself away behind imaginary bars that keep me contained and locked away from everything that hurts…

Unfortunately, the pain still slithers on through the bars though, it reaches in and spills my guts out of my abdomen and then forces me to clean up the bloody mess I am making as I struggle with my insides on the outside, killing me.

I realize that maybe I am not ready for any of this, any rules, guidance, and most importantly love.

I push love away like I would toss a hot potato or scream against the heat of a brand before it ever touched my flesh. Love hurts, there are like 20 billion songs written all about heart ache, heart break and trying to pick up the pieces of the aftermath, so I push it away because it can consume me whole.

10 years now since my baby died while fluttering inside of my undeserving womb. My only memory is a dot with a flashing light on the ultrasound screen. A dot with a heart that would know only love as she was born into the hands of God…

Leaving me to ache and suffer and cry and beg to die and wait for a release that I doubt will ever come. Locking myself away and refusing to feel because feeling leads to pain and from pain I no longer know how to heal… and I don’t believe I deserve to even if I did.

No, I deserved the whips and the chains and the muffled cries. The degradation that hurt me beyond any words could say. I deserve the triggers and the nightmares and the physical pain.

Love, joy, happiness, all things I can witness but never fully experience, because God created me to suffer, knowing full well that I would be passed to Satans hands just like the ones tested in the bible were.

My life doesn’t get a place in a book that will be forever remembered, or remembered at all, and I am okay with that…

I just need to stop fucking up my own life long enough to barely impact others.

We’re the nobodies
Wanna be somebodies
We’re dead,
We know just who we are

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