smoke filling tired lungs; a dizzy rush. with the exhale it is temporarily released. unsteady hands dispose of the ash. slowly the fire burns it away. along with it, sanity.
quiet music plays in the background, ridding of the unbearable silence. but the thoughts are never silent.
the cold creeps deep underneath thin skin, and nothing seems to warm it up again; almost as if the heart is pumping cold blood throughout the veins.
this heart, pitter-pattering slowly, then quickly, then slowly again.
breathing deeply in, and then calmly out; now softly whispering a comforting lie, "i'm okay, i'm okay, everything is going to be okay."
eyelids almost too heavy to stay open, but too burdened to close.
staring at the clock, the minutes tick by, but time means nothing anymore.
eventually limbs will grow weak, muscles will relax, and dark-circled eyes will close, finally allowing rest. the question is, when? and how? and for how long?
a quiet prayer asks for forgiveness, safety, and genuine rest. sometimes it cries out for help; deliverance from all of this chaos; freedom from the grips of the chains that seem to suffocate.
tonight, the shame is too heavy to allow this desperate plea. instead, mutters one thing- "i'm sorry"
for what? everything.
because tonight forgiveness is undeserved. freedom is too far away. and even rest seems impossible.
and safety, well safety doesn't exist at all anymore.
whispering the lie again, "i'm okay... i'm okay... i really am okay."
somehow, it brings safety back to existence for just a minute or two.
the world outside is dark and silent, asleep. how this happens so easily is envied and not easily understood. if only night could come that simply on the inside...
an emptiness echoes from deep down inside. constant denial has made it easier to ignore. constant fear has made it impossible to alleviate.
vision blurs and head nods, signaling that rest may not be as impossible as once believed.
the whispering lies have to be heard one more time, "i'm okay, i'm okay, everything is going to be okay."
because the uneven rise and fall of the chest, the unsteady hands, pitter=pattering heart, and swirling brain are saying otherwise.
before the frail body can drift into a silent sleep, the first line of a childhood prayer comes to mind...
"if i should die before i wake, i pray the lord my soul to take..."
quiet music plays in the background, ridding of the unbearable silence. but the thoughts are never silent.
the cold creeps deep underneath thin skin, and nothing seems to warm it up again; almost as if the heart is pumping cold blood throughout the veins.
this heart, pitter-pattering slowly, then quickly, then slowly again.
breathing deeply in, and then calmly out; now softly whispering a comforting lie, "i'm okay, i'm okay, everything is going to be okay."
eyelids almost too heavy to stay open, but too burdened to close.
staring at the clock, the minutes tick by, but time means nothing anymore.
eventually limbs will grow weak, muscles will relax, and dark-circled eyes will close, finally allowing rest. the question is, when? and how? and for how long?
a quiet prayer asks for forgiveness, safety, and genuine rest. sometimes it cries out for help; deliverance from all of this chaos; freedom from the grips of the chains that seem to suffocate.
tonight, the shame is too heavy to allow this desperate plea. instead, mutters one thing- "i'm sorry"
for what? everything.
because tonight forgiveness is undeserved. freedom is too far away. and even rest seems impossible.
and safety, well safety doesn't exist at all anymore.
whispering the lie again, "i'm okay... i'm okay... i really am okay."
somehow, it brings safety back to existence for just a minute or two.
the world outside is dark and silent, asleep. how this happens so easily is envied and not easily understood. if only night could come that simply on the inside...
an emptiness echoes from deep down inside. constant denial has made it easier to ignore. constant fear has made it impossible to alleviate.
vision blurs and head nods, signaling that rest may not be as impossible as once believed.
the whispering lies have to be heard one more time, "i'm okay, i'm okay, everything is going to be okay."
because the uneven rise and fall of the chest, the unsteady hands, pitter=pattering heart, and swirling brain are saying otherwise.
before the frail body can drift into a silent sleep, the first line of a childhood prayer comes to mind...
"if i should die before i wake, i pray the lord my soul to take..."
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