I tried to make it mine,
but I dropped it from a height.
Watched it hit the ground,
expecting a loud, crashing sound.
What I got was not a mark,
being of resilient heart.
I realized that I had grown
far too used to letting go.
Break it and escape.
no responsible takes.
Just me and my taste
for self-induced tragedy.
Destruction comes,
destruction goes.
Destruction stokes the ego,
until I am seeing
a wasteland
that doesn’t have to be.
We enter cycles
of life and death,
but death needs to be
a new creation.
I lay my head to rest
thinking reality
of my imagination.
No proof,
no test,
other than
honestly seeing
the situation.
I wake amongst
my broken past;
a broken present
my only indication.
How low
does it have to go,
and do I really have to drag
everyone with me?
Reality crumbles on its own.
Why am I
helping it along
so quickly?
Is this self-pity?
Is this the way
to open my eyes
to what needs to be?
I’m not going to lie.
I’m not going to hide.
I’m going to live
with what I do in life.
Only closing the page
when I am done.
Not trying to burn the book
and be alone.
it’s not right
to live that way.
It’s not just my time,
anymore.
I hear a voice say,
“Don’t be afraid.
Everything will be okay.”
HG – 2022
