Ode to Living Inside yourself

October 16, 2011
Every blow to the stomach

Is like a blow to the soul

Piercing, aching, burning deep in the pits of your stomach

Circulating to the tips of your purple fingernails

Cradled in a ball, laying on the frozen concrete

Tears streaming down your face

Out of your eyes and soul

Hair matt and wet, stuck to your face like glue

Bits of ice entangled within your hair, within your soul

Your head aches with a reminder of your past, taunting you like a black cat

The cuts that reach your heart

Are the hardest to heal

Breathing becomes hard and heavy, your lungs barely contracting

Your heart barely beating

Bruises and scars cover your body

Cover your soul

Your hands attempt to grasp anything, anyone

No one stops to look at you

No One Cares

You are in an overpopulated world

And you feel so alone

No one is there to pick you off the ground

No one is there to help you walk

No one is there to push you

Only you and your soul are left

Frozen, throbbing, aching

You must pick up your soul

Because no one else will

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