Poem 3: Tear Soaked Pillow

Poem 3: Tear Soaked Pillow

I’m fighting with myself

Left fist balled

Right knuckles clenched

Trapped by myself

My own prison guard

Making sure I never escape

Held captive,

ankles bound,  shackles dragging

mouth gagged, lips permanently sealed

 and tied, ropes

There’s this person with an eerie resemblance

Eyes looking right into my soul

Back from that mirror

Same everything

Yet I still feel distance

Who is she?

The old me has been in captivity, in my own body

I am two, in my own way, my own thoughts obstacles

One vessel

Harboring one spirit

From two time zones

Soul exposed, Vulnerable

Physically present

Yet spiritually vacant

Fatigued

Living while dead already

Walking Zombie

Roaming, Skeleton

Fingers once interlocked, now single

An empty shell

Living in hell

Demons now dwell

Crushing weight on my ribcage

Ruled by rage

Lifeforce depleted, breathless

Eyelids stitched shut, bloodshot red

Overlooked, surpassed

Searching for something to end the pain fast

Stifled and silenced

My lips don’t work

Forward my body jerks

Voice so miniscule, silent

Falls on deaf ears

Remote controlled drone

Miniscule

Controlled by fear

Haunted by the past

Flashbacks and reoccurring nightmares

So realistic

Songs echoing in my head

Poisonous ear worm like lead

My mind like a movie

Bombarded with scenes

Can’t move past

Consumed by my obsessions

My own bully

I can never move fully

Screams muffled beneath the surface

Worthless, I wish I hurt less

Undeveloped like a rough draft, outcast

Flawed and torn, my beauty worn