9/16/18
The thing about pain this deep
Is that most of your time is spent
Weaving a cocoon to envelope you,
Shield you from concerned eyes while
Your broken body is wracked with sobs.
Alone.
And the rest of it…
Oh, the rest you spend
Thrashing ‘round like a wounded animal,
Locked away,
Unaware of time and space
Or anything but agony.
That’s when you all but beg
The powers that be
To strike you down for your transgressions,
Whether they be borne from malice or
Simply loving too much.
I’ve seen that pain in your eyes, love,
Heard it in your voice.
But someday, you’ll have to turn to something
That isn’t pills or vodka or women
Or some toxic combination of the three.
You have so much more to live for, darling.
You’ll remember that one day too,
Once you’ve stopped worshiping at
This self-constructed shrine to pain
And begun remembering who you are
Without wearing your agony as armor.
–Sarah Clinton