A Bloody Mess

I wrote a story, confess all
With the strength of a paper doll.
The shock runs up my spine with every fall.
I hear a shattering sound.
As I break beneath this weight.
How could I depend upon this frame?
My legs go numb.
This grip is stifling.
Crushing the nerves in my back
Followed by a traumatic collapse.
I drag this mess with shaking hands.
Taking these staggering steps.
How I long to walk again.
I drag this mess with shaking hands.
Taking these staggering steps.
I’d give everything to stand on my own again.
My tolerance for pain descends.
It’s like broken glass burried under my skin.
What little strength I have is wasted on these sores.
I suppose I could drown myself,
in a sea of alcohol and opiates.
Twisting and writhing.
A crutch, a vice, a marginal respite.
I drag this mess with shaking hands.
Taking these staggering steps.
How I long to walk again.
I drag this mess with shaking hands.
Taking these staggering steps.
I’d give everything to stand on my own again.
My plagues coursing through my veins.
And I can’t stop this bleeding.
Oh God, it won’t stop bleeding.
I dream that I could run.
It’s something that I lost in all this searching,
for the strength to carry on.
I drag this mess with shaking hands.
Taking these staggering steps.
How I long to walk again.
I drag this mess with shaking hands.
Taking these staggering steps.
I’d give everything to stand on my own again.