can you evict the pain that barricades your world —
or does it just become the shadow of your soul?
the atoms in your skin, the marrow in your bones —
the chaos in your skull of questions and unknowns?
is that heartache who you are, all you can ever be —
the extent of this story, the whole identity?
does the fear which threatens to gnaw your insides clean —
rebel against the pretense of your cool smoke screen?
do those hollowed eyes mirror chinks in your bravado —
a vacuum in your heart that quivers in staccato?
but maybe that’s acceptable, could it be alright —
to expose these battle wounds in the direct sunlight?
if sorrow heals, and scarred remains soften into flesh —
can you be a human who is blemished and refreshed?
is the most you can hope for just to stay alive —
or might a chance exist that you were made to thrive?
instead of seizing a belief that you’re too foregone —
what if it’s the brokenness which makes you brave and strong?