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a question of why they were given to me
February 24, 2021
my words are the tears i don't cry
my escape, my blanket
i pull them around me
i comfort myself with them
sometimes they spill from me
like so many metaphors
sometimes i wrench them from myself
forced prayers and answers and affirmations
they are my weapon, my obsession, my solace,
my tools, my paintbrushes
i pour them out
like clouds pour rain
sometimes, when they're all gone,
i feel empty, and i ask
what would i be without them?
i'm afraid of finding out
can i bear to be without them?
will i have to?
do i need to?
© Madeline I., Mustang, Oklahoma
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