some of us need help

see, i’ve carried this weight for

what feels like centuries.

i’d rip my skin to show you

how the hooks tear beneath but

i don’t think you’d see me the same.

truth changes how you perceive

and i have been in pain for so long

i’m afraid to look at myself, really.

agony must be defining because

i don’t remember who i used to be

before it hooked itself into my body,

viscious talons ripping with

repetition into transient flesh.

does prometheus remember who he was

before the eagle took to the sky?

do i remember a day before i decided

i wanted to die?

broken minds typically

bend the body like a wire

given recklessly to the hands

of an over-eager toddler.

my body reflects what my heart commands

and my heart demands a break.

so please, tell me that it’s okay

for me to fall broken;

crumbling to the floor

bloody and moaning for

all the good i used to be and more -

tell me i can wail faithlessly to god

for a relief from the ache.

please, tell me that it’s okay to break

body and soul.

i still don’t know who i’ll be

when i wake.

but i can’t do it unless

you show me the way.