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

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry

4 responses to “Confine

  1. 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.

  2. I believe you speak for many of us

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