Human bullets

Walk into the room

Energies about, attack, suffocate, mimic and go on.

You know you can’t win this battle,

You know there’s no hope.

Doom impending on your doorstep each time you step foot into the presence

The air is stifling,

yet everyone else can breathe.

This is the reason you’re alive.

This is the reason you breathe.

This is the reason you care.

Fragile soul, working so hard to be normal.

Grow your shell, your casing, your bullets

Fire away at random, sometimes it makes it easier.

One less person means more oxygen.

One less person means one more life.

Yet each time you bring your arsenal of tactics

You drop them at the door with your shoes

and walk barefoot and naked in front of them all.

This is the reason you hate yourself.

This is the reason you’re sad.

This is the reason you can’t pick up and move on.

Fragile heart, breaking apart at the pieces

the moments stolen away from others mend it together

like veins, ligaments and shrapnel

Whole again.

You love It’s all you know how to do.

Your love is oxygenating,

No one can breathe.

The Sheild

Are there two parts to every person?
Perhaps there are more than that.
I know, without the doubt of this,
That I am too many to count anymore.
Who am I really, and who is the person I let others see?
Is the face in the mirror truly me?
In here I feel distorted, fragments of that mirror
Shards of glass showing each meticulous imperfection
Each deep thought that slices further and further,
Until a cerebral hemorrhage occurs.
It will occur.
Marshall, is this why you died?
Were these thoughts too much for your mind to take?
So you cut them with your words,
And left this earth in peace?
I can understand why you were tired,
Why you felt drained and damaged.
The breaking point can only come so close
So many times
Before a person cracks at the seams,
And the blood begins to pour.
The person I want to be
Is the person that I already am
But the person I already am,
Refuses to show her beautiful face.
In the mirror I see composure,
Full lips, high cheekbones, eyes that will pierce through your skull if you let them,
That’s not the image I’ve conjured inside,
That’s not me, she’s just genetics.
They are fooling you.
“Be not afraid” he says
I’m not, but
This shield is too strong for me to lift.
It’s spent almost 25 years there, getting heavier and heavier with each blow.
Each battle has taken its toll,
And too quickly for me to really know
Where to go from here…

Written: December 20, 2009