For many years I have suffered in silence with no one ever having a clue. 

No mother, brother, sister, wife, girlfriend, not even elements of my crew. 

Mentally unstable. An emotional wreck. My psychological health has deteriorated beyond repair. Its soil lacks the depth, strength and body to rebuild a foundation that would make me function as a common man. 

But you were the only one. The only one who could see the hurt behind my happiness. The only one who could see the strength behind my struggle. The only one who could see the hurt in my eyes and hear my cry for help in my silence.  

Your presence is my vulnerability’s kryptonite. Folding my fears and insecurities like Valarian steel which cuts the very lining of your core as it repels your efforts of reassurance.  

I was hurting silently with a smile on my face. 

Dancing to the beats as turmoil invaded my mental space. 

I was hurting in silence with a smile on my face. 

Seeing the pain within my smile while I left them without a trace. 

I was hurting silently with a smile on my face. 

Watching you watch me, as I watch the hurt spill over into your personal space. 

I was hurting in silence with a smile on my face. 

Mary Jane, White Lady, nor even booze, could have never taken your place. 

I was furious...because you know me. 

You know when I’m hurting. 

You’re the only one that does. 

So, I know you saw me hurting, yet you turned a blind eye. 

My heart begged for your attention, while my eyes sprinkled dry cries. 

I've been to therapy and counselling, but they haven't worked I guess,  

Rushing the journey at the first step, instead of trusting the process.  

Emotionally I’m unavailable. I’s somewhere chasing my demons as they have ostracized me, leaving me to suffer in a cruel and inhumane world. Even they are disappointed. This is beyond their influence.  

As I appear somewhat sadistic, with your hurt fueling my decadence. 

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Looking in the RearView

Image
           “ Objects are Closer Than They Appear” They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, but the truth is, it’s more like a cracked mirror — every glance backward distorts the image just enough to make you question what you saw in the first place. I spent years loving someone who taught me that pain could wear perfume and smile in public. She didn’t raise her voice often, but when she did, it left bruises in places no one could see. I lost count of the apologies I whispered to myself, trying to convince my heart it was just a rough patch. That if I worked harder, loved louder, or held on tighter, maybe she'd come back to the version of her I first fell in love with — the version that might never have really existed. Still, I never stopped showing up. For her. For the version of us I kept alive like a candle in a hurricane. Now, she’s in my rear-view . And some days, I still glance back, out of habit. Out of hurt. Out of hope. But healing, I’ve learned, isn’t ...
Read more

Delroy: The Revenge of a River Mumma"

          It was that time. Delroy had reached a pivotal point in his life, as he is about to complete his right of passage of transitioning to the after-life. He had been under the tutelage of his parents, as they tried grooming him to become one of the most fearsome duppies in the district. Inevitably, both parents wanted him to be just like them, which unfortunately had him in a pretty precarious position. His mother Matty, was the infamous duppy that haunted and tormented the people of the district. According to villagers, she would usually claim her place under the big banana tree that covered the stop sign at the end of the road. Apparently, this was her usual hang out spot for many years before she died. Matty was a miserable young woman. Her neighbor's and the other villagers were shocked to the discovery of how young she was after seeing her obituary, which completely contradicts the age she portrays on a daily basis. She executed the decorum and rapp...
Read more