Blood

I've been silent for a long while now
rejecting the need to speak

but theres more to say

and I feel weak

the stuffing motion
the avoidance
i guess i've become immune to it

somehow, somewhere

the voice inside me has pushed up
out
bursting pores with want to be heard

this will be difficult

i'm not sure how to approach it

this will be difficult


This is the sixth year of blood. I promised myself this would be all. This year I would go back and recapture everything I had lost.

I lied.

I think I have lied a lot for a long time. and as every piece of me, of that lie gets rooted away i come to the realization that some work has to be done here.

i say I don't know who I am anymore, but I wonder if I ever knew?

Like she said: I learned to cope at eight. Eight. And that coping has become and intricate web of illusion reflecting light from places too dark to explore.

Did I ever really have a chance Susan? Can I fix this now?