Broken Things

Cigarette burns on the carpet.
I’ve been stuck, staring at the ceiling again.
I feel you in between the studs in the walls.
The voices keep raising the price on my head.
I watched you rise like a statue out of reality.
To come and focus your weight onto me.
A weight I would proudly shoulder.
We are kindred spirits, dead but not free.
My head continues its mess at every cost.
A broken door frame, another lie to claim.
I can’t find the words to replace these thoughts.
The leaves keep changing, but I stay the same.
Speaking quieter when speaking of love.
I’m afraid the words will escape and float away.
Savoring every syllable, suspended on every ending.
I am the afterthought of heartache delayed.
All we carry is on our backs.
Set out to display the roots of our soul.
Whether you want to believe the truth or not.
The damage you engraved was mine to hold.
I’ve let go of your false ideals and values.
I still face demons that aren’t my own.
Nightmares to keep me from dreaming.
But in the end, after all the hell, I found a home.
Lay fists to all you hate, but you could never break me.
I rise to converge with both torment and comfort.
Every despair endured will carry me beyond the trees.
To live through, spill over and under what you suffer.

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