To Be Discontinued

Fear {un}settling, confusion surrounds.

Voices and animated dreams, perilously haunting;

Incomplete emotional fodder compounds

Insincere words of care for us, taunting.

 

The torture of having no outlet to release,

Learning to cope and work with obscurities,

Things we see but in which we do not discuss,

The white elephant for many,

Covered by politically correct terms;

Differently-abled;

Mentally, or emotionally scarred;

It’s bullshit…

We are physically cut down,

Emotionally inept,

Mentally over aware;

And historians in our own right…

                We live it,

                                Over and over,

Our own haunting,

our own historic timeline,

No escape, no release.

 

And you always want to talk about it,

Want us to talk about it.

What for?

Will your Freudian theory help me?

Feel better about my hatred for my mom,

Or some obscene lust that has no founding

For why I suffer.

I went through hell,

Walked the line, and I have to live with it.

For some we are messengers…we talk about it

For some we are damaged…we are just trying

                To console ourselves,

Until the dreams

 

                                Discontinue….