in a stationary sanctuary of serenity

she hides her deepest sorrows

for they will be her undoing

she sleeps with her heart

out of her chest

in someone else’s clutches,

to return to the true bliss

she has faked for so long

she must find her heart

and stitch it back

so she feels love, support, empathy

instead of this numb calmness

that has ruptured her empty bones


A brick wall pushes against my brain,

trying to keep me sane,

but in reality,

it’s trapping the helps and the whelps

and maybe I need them back.

If I have no tears or fears,

if I have no worries at all —

then what’s left to care about?

You only care when you feel bad,

and I just can’t feel sad.

It’s so heavy, against my mind,

and I can’t lift it —

I need a grenade.

Perhaps, then,

I’ll find a way

to feel again.