FeatheredSeclude

I feel like all I do is give away what I am for her, treading the black and white like it was inverted, seeking out the harm like it was my sanctuary, and turning my back on every opportunity to a home because safe is terrifying. She’d never have to open her mind, I’m already a foot in the grave with hers. Taking every fiber of my bones just to breathe for myself, leaving nothing behind but a husk to capitulate to her. Nothing in words can convince me I am my own, there are no actions to rewrap this shattered skull of its wiring, I don’t understand why I am not enough for myself. The twisted perception I can come around to only leaves me a foot in the grave, I’m only enough for her when I remain at my lowest, staying tethered in a contract of malevolence signed in blood, as if her crimson sacrifices were not enough debts to be paid. It haunts me with a sickening snap, rejecting any and all forms of grace gouging it out like a threat to my life, what is there to my life when I have

Another day and night, quiet streets in the absence of light, bustling markets in the sun’s stay. Simplistic routine, from point A to B to C, rinse and repeat, remain out of the way. Would be a lie to say it’s exciting, life sits in a lull, can’t say much I’m here. An inhale versus an exhale, from A to B to C, hold my breath when needed, remain out of the way. It’s a bore revisiting the same sights, little changes while the audience ever shifts, a strange oddity I guess I am. Nearing a decade, life’s half-over I’d say, just stick to the roof, remain out of the way. Some days are livelier than another, the next a walk of silence to endure, a fluxing landscape to the furrow. A repeat of the cyclic is here, watching a killer be subdued, keep to the back of the crowd, remain out of the way. A challenge to speak up with what I bear, wandering in the shadows of the silence, a home found with the one I hurt. An ironic place to be welcomed into, yet still I can’t lie to say it’s without

Content Awareness This piece talks about the nonlinear process of healing, debate on suicidal ideations, and inferiority from past trauma. Trying to make everything that is there and move forward from that never ending hurt. More than not I see little to nothing outstanding,it all is a murky bog to trudge through.Being an ear for someone whom simply needs to be heard,should give some kind of fulfillment,yet it never seems too.Just finding myself lost in a spiral trying to figure it out,all of it to no avail and only left with confusion.Strangers see me as trustworthy with personal things,enough so to be comfortable enough to share information they keep buried.It’s often enough it sticks out from my day to day,but sparse enough to not be consistent,I’m still stuck in this unexplainable loop.Acts and being able to help someone should have me feel something,something that doesn’t remind me of inferiority,but… but that is where it always seems to turn too.I’m unworthy of feeling such