Jagged edges
Sing of forgotten pain,
The righteous indignation
But why, forgotten again,
Just more ragged sorrow,
Dipped in tears,
Forever is tomorrow,
Take away the fears,
Subtract all reason,
Remove all thought,
For this feeling inside,
Is all that I’m not.

Not unhappy, not sad,
Not quite.

Nor anger, frustration,
Or sense of loss.

This is something else,
Something deeper instead,
The scrappy fighter standing up to be counted,
Shouting, “I’m not dead!”

For that is what is inside,
What cannot ever be changed,
The valiant effort
To hold onto the unchained.

No melody here, just ragged emotion,
No feast for the eyes, or poetry in motion,
Just raw-jagged tattered remains,
Of every wish fulfillment my soul ever contained.

And yet I sit here, quandary untouched,
The real reason I cry leaving me nonplussed,
No closer to the truth, than I have ever been before,
Elation without ceiling, depression without floor.

So instead I spin out,
Letting the waves crash around,
No fighting is necessary, when
Clear safety can be found.

Decades of pain,
Or otherwise.

So the tears fill,
And spill,
From tired-burning eyes.

And still,
After all this time,
It’s the me, I do not know.

Still spinning,
Still here, fighting
The undertow.

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