What if I were to give ?

Not give like a gift that you take,

But give like a stressing cable that

Dream monsters break.

Sometimes giving in seems less painful than pushing on.

Taken under by a tidal wave of doubt,

And an undertow of hate not gone.

Hate for the weakness held in my eyes.

Rather than drag myself kicking and screaming

Through a path of gasoline fire,

I’ll lie down in a cradle of numb,

And sleep on a pillows’ cold dire.

Giving in and sinking--

A never-ending floor that keeps dropping,

My legs can’t hold, my hands just shake,

Ear to the floor; but heart quiet calling.

No longer a whimper, just eyes to the sky.

Lips sealed--tongue tied--

Chest closed, cuts wide--

I just want to give; give like nothing: I tried.