Thursday, February 19, 2015

Pain is black and red and spiky.

Stop this merry-go-round, pause this roundabout, I want to get off.
Stop swinging the swings, swinging is making me sick.
Flatten the slides, let me stay on solid and stable ground
For a few hours, or even a few days.
When the world spins around in dizzying circles, throwing
The unsuspecting hitchhiker out towards infinite space,
And then halts, and changes direction, and the finger tip
Grip on reality is loosened, and the ground shakes and trembles,
When the noise of living is deafening, and the colours of the
Noise are glaring and flashing, like neon lights,
Beating an uneven rhythm on my mind,
Then, then, yes then, I need the world to stop revolving.
I need time to halt, I need to suspend in space
And not be for a while.
No-one will let me.
They make me carry on.
And then I scream, and cry, and try to tear the pain from
Beneath my skin, digging in nails to gouge it out in lumps
And to let the agony bleed into the parched earth.
That is when I cannot be as you want me to be,
And that is when you tell me I am wrong,
I have failed, and in failing I am failing further,
And falling, falling, falling, through the cracks,
No arms are held out to catch me, no-one hears
Me when I scream and cry for help.
And then I want it all to stop.
I wish I was not.

© 2ndwitch, 19/02/15

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