some of us need help
see, i’ve carried this weight for
what feels like centuries.
i’d rip my skin to show you
how the hooks tear beneath but
i don’t think you’d see me the same.
truth changes how you perceive
and i have been in pain for so long
i’m afraid to look at myself, really.
agony must be defining because
i don’t remember who i used to be
before it hooked itself into my body,
viscious talons ripping with
repetition into transient flesh.
does prometheus remember who he was
before the eagle took to the sky?
do i remember a day before i decided
i wanted to die?
broken minds typically
bend the body like a wire
given recklessly to the hands
of an over-eager toddler.
my body reflects what my heart commands
and my heart demands a break.
so please, tell me that it’s okay
for me to fall broken;
crumbling to the floor
bloody and moaning for
all the good i used to be and more -
tell me i can wail faithlessly to god
for a relief from the ache.
please, tell me that it’s okay to break
body and soul.
i still don’t know who i’ll be
when i wake.
but i can’t do it unless
you show me the way.