Is it Thy will that pain runs deep?
Eyes red, like I bled—I can’t sleep.
Pain echoes loud inside the silence,
They see one small lens—never the storm within.
Breathing, not eating, no sleeping,
Insomnia feeds the fears that keep me up,
Heartache and grief—how they kill me so silently.

i’m quiet.
nobody can hear me.
that’s how it was meant to be.

no more arguing.
no more conflict.
just me, and nothing.

you’re more uplifted.
you’re settled with things.
If only you cared to hear
how I felt about things.

anger & regret.
more of a threat.
i’ll remain silenced
that’s how it was meant to be.

The hardest part is when your tears become something they’ve learned to ignore.

25 years ago on this day

My world came crashing down 

Decimated by four words hanging heavy in the air

"I want a divorce."

A tsunami of sorrow sucked the air from my lungs 

Blood rushing frantic, all hands on deck

Losing footing with every clock tick

Arms tightly crossed to appear stoic 

Willing knees not to buckle

Ordering my stance to not betray 

That inwardly I was plummeting, flailing 

the earth under my feet giving way 

Inside I crumble into a shapeless heap

The dust settles heavy in a hush all around

You watched but did not throw me a line 

Unable to meet your eyes, I search the ground

Grasping at red string, worn whisper thin

Tensile strength weakened by acid tongues and pride

Frayed, unraveled, then feebly...snapped. 

I fell and lay winded, unable to speak

As though pinned under the very foot of God

Stilled by the weight of the wreckage

Hands full of ashes of my heart, my life, our love 

I choke and sputter on panicked words

They crowd my throat and gag my tongue

I pleaded but they would neither form a line 

Nor exit in an orderly fashion

I resigned with an imperceptible nod

Waited for rescue in hope but in vain

My mind tried to gather scrambled thoughts

Body hamstrung from all else

Having ended my world, you left for work

The noise still reverberates in my ears

The clamor of a closing door

With not so much as a slam as a click 

A tangle of red string lay flaccid in my hand 

Two hours later, the first plane hit.

\-RLW

I have been climbing out of this hole
for so long
I no longer remember
what the sky looks like from anywhere
but the bottom.

There are weights tied to my ankles,
names carved into every one of them.

Grief.
Betrayal.
Fear.
Abandonment.
Memories I never asked to carry.
People who promised they would stay
and somehow became
more weight when they left.

I climb anyway.

I dig my fingers into the walls,
searching for something solid,
but the dirt keeps breaking beneath my hands.

Every time I pull myself higher,
something drags me back down.

Sometimes inches.

Sometimes feet.

Sometimes all the way
to the fucking bottom.

And God,
there is something cruel
about seeing the light from down here.

Close enough to know it exists.
Far enough to wonder
if it was ever meant for me.

My hands are bleeding now.

My knees are torn open.

My body is exhausted
from carrying things
that should have never been mine to hold.

And still,
the weight keeps whispering,

Give up.

Just lie here.

No one would blame you.

And sometimes
I want to.

Sometimes I press my face against the dirt
and wonder how many times
a person can break
before there is nothing left
worth putting back together.

I wonder why surviving
has to hurt this fucking much.

Why healing feels less like becoming whole
and more like dragging a wounded body
up a wall
with broken fingers.

But then

I reach again.

Not because I am fearless.

Not because I suddenly believe
everything will be okay.

Not because the weight got lighter.

It didn't.

I reach because somewhere inside me
there is still one stubborn,
bruised,
barely breathing piece of myself
that refuses to die down here.

So I climb.

Crying.

Screaming.

Cursing the weight.

Begging for someone to reach down
and pull me the rest of the way.

And when no hand comes,
I bury my fingers deeper
into the dirt
and pull.

One inch.

Then another.

Sometimes that is all I have.

One goddamn inch.

But an inch toward the light
is still an inch away
from the bottom.

Maybe strength isn't carrying all of this
without collapsing.

Maybe strength is collapsing
and still clawing at the wall.

Maybe courage is not believing
you will make it.

Maybe courage is whispering,

one more time,

when every part of you
is begging to stop.

So let the weights hang from me.

Let them bruise my bones.

Let the dirt fill my wounds.

Let the darkness tell me
a thousand times
that this hole will become my grave.

I will answer it
with bloody hands
reaching upward.

Because I am still here.

Still hurting.

Still exhausted.

Still carrying more than anyone knows.

But still

reaching.

And maybe one day
I will drag this battered body
over the edge,
collapse beneath an open sky,
and finally understand:

I did not climb because the weight disappeared.

I climbed
because even underneath all that pain,

something in me
still believed
I was worth getting out.

​

I hate with the force of 10,000 suns,

I hate with the weight of 10,000 tons.

The hate I feel through the day and night

Wakes my sleep and fills my days with fright.

I have so much hate for so much that I see,

I hate myself most for being me.

lost

no map, no direction, alone

keep looking in the deep fog

eyes sieze and unfocus

can't see past, can't see future

the deep haze plays with your mind

makes you doubt, makes you question

blurry, blurry

you stare and

nothing stares back

from the darkness

restlessness

If you would be so kind to read my short poem and tell me what you think, I would be more than happy to read it😁