Broken and Beyond Repair
My tears tickled my face as they slowly roll down my brown skin.
While I grasp this pen.
My words, my outlet of feelings.
They say this is part of my healing.
Of a disorder that has no cure.
Leaving my wounds raw, uncovered, unsure.
Me Psyche is racing.
My feet are pacing.
My forehead is full of sweat.
Trying to prevent myself from doing someting I would regret.
The questions of why fills the air.
My emotions are broken and beyond repair.
So I embed my emotions on this paper.
Praying that it gets better later.
For now I will just pause.
And use these words as my protective gauze.