I’m merely a collection of sad stories
All bitterness, anger and imperfections
Pretending that I’m not broken wide open
Struggling for air as waves of past crash down
Like weeds, family roots run deep and hang on
My inability to let it all go
keeping me from thoroughly ripping them out
Each time I attempt escape from memories
They wind tighter, tether me and snap me back
To be trapped inside the confines of my mind
4 responses to “Confine”
You don’t have to let things go, you have to detach yourself from things, so the emotions are gone. Then it’s just flat, like black and white pictures that don’t mean anything. This was hard to read, especially since you left out all the brave and wonderful stories you’re attached to. Get out of the house, or you won’t be able to see the good stories. Go out.
I know… i need to.
I believe you speak for many of us
Thank you and how sad that is…