Thursday, August 09, 2012

Cut Up

I wrote this poem a long time ago, just on a whim, not really out of an experience- I'm good at role-playing. (;
But now that I have an experience, it means so much more. It's truer than ever now.


Cut Up

You broke my heart, and I'm afraid of it cutting my insides.
I'm terrified of it slicing my lungs so I can't breathe.
I'm horrified it might chop up my stomach so I can't eat.
You've made me a danger to myself;
A hazard to my own health.

You broke my heart, and I'm afraid of it cutting my insides.
I'm frightened of a sharp edge shredding my nerves 
and making me a hopeless wreck.
I'm petrified a stray shard will pierce through my skin and cause me 
to bleed out to an empty crisp shell.

So many things this weapon you've created 
could destroy inside of me.
But, although my heart is not fully intact, 
my brain is, and is functioning;

It's reminding my eyes to look around and see the beautiful world awaiting me.
It's teaching my ears to love the music I once cherished.
It's cuing my lungs to keep inhaling critical oxygen into my system.
It's promising my stomach that food will keep coming and ensuring my mouth keeps it.
It's soothing my nerves with words of wisdom and a couple NSAIDs.
It's swearing to my skin that it will be free of self-inflicted wounds and never a dry shell.

It's helping my heart to stagger forth a steady beat
and assuring it that time will come to heal it's jagged edges.

You broke my heart.
But I refuse to let it cut up my insides.


No comments:

Post a Comment