Broken

Break me,
Shatter my bones with your hate.
Tie me down with the blood of my own body.
Your words slice away at my resolve.
Steal my spine,
I crumble at your feet.
Smile.
Melt my heart and make me forget,
lock away the darkness and throw away the key.
Pandora’s box of tears,
do not open.
Bathe me in sunlight,
no shadows will I see,
take the mirror and smash my soul.
I am already broken so what does it matter.

~~~

Opening lines are hard to write, harder still when it isn’t some random flight of fancy, but rather the opening for what will be a very personal blog entry.

I guess the most logical place to start would be a brief description of the above poem. Did you like it? It is okay if you didn’t, it isn’t particuarly pretty, in fact I would liken it to a slap in the face with a week dead tuna, but that was perhaps how I was feeling at the time I wrote it.

I was angry.

I was sad.

I was impotent.

I had been crushed so far into the dirt I had almost lost my sense of self. I had given up on myself, and dare I say it, I had almost given up on life as well. It all sounds so melodramatic but I honestly have no other way to describe it. Nor do I know why I let someone have that much power over me. It is part of the reason why I decided to write a book of poetry (illustrated of course), I find poetry very cathartic and excellent for my sanity.

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