INNER CITY STORIES
I've broken down into smaller versions of myself. Wondering if you'd even care if I stopped being someone you used to know. Sorrow is a girl's best friend, the only one who will never leave, reducing feeling to numbness. Perhaps you left in such a hurry because the silence hurt your ears as much as mine. Everything you have built so far diminished by the words left unsaid. Words that will break apart all that we have ever known. I am not the cause of all the broken glass you have walked upon. I am not the darkness, or the poison in your veins. I am not the nightmares you dream but rather the one who is haunted by all that has been lost. I am the rubble left after the hurricane, I am the sand washed away by the waves, I am a rose with thorns wrapped tightly around my body. Regurgitating all the lies you have ever spoken. I wake up and put myself back on the block, taking rage, sorrow, hurt, and loneliness, and storing them inside a box.