The torn whole

Those were days when I wished
I could lose my senses and end up in a psych ward.
to scream the pain off, fight the pain out,
or even better, forget it all and live in Oblivion

Being in my skin was unbearable
If only I could lose myself, and
float off to insanity!
That daily struggle,
resisting the loss of myself,
so heartbreaking…
I pined to be whole again.

I was tired of losing myself over and over
then trying to rebuild from scratch.
I missed me…
no,
I despised me.

To lose yourself is a nasty business;
back to the brokenness
you were so late to discover,
or on to the terrors
you had fought to escape all this while.

I would’ve readily plunged a knife into my heart,
neatly sliced a vein and let me bleed out,
or downed a few pills to sleep myself off, for good;

But I was afraid!

I was afraid
that beyond these scary night terrors,
a dawn awaited me.
Someone whispered lightly,
then urgently and repeatedly
that one more second,
and light would tear in and set me free.
One more second, I waited,
one more single second, and then one more…

I was afraid, of missing dawn
by the nick of a second.

© mar:ter