This Place Is A Bog Where I Cannot Swim

I have tried to rise above but some days are like mires,

 

memories bubble up from the ground to catch my feet,

and there’s no pushing past the darkness

when the backs of my eyelids become cinema screens

for the voice in the my head that’s always judging every move I make.

It tells me friends are only pretending to my face,

and when I’m gone they are talking about me.

It knows exactly what they are saying when I’m out of earshot

so it repeats the words like a mantra

over the patter of memories I thought dealt with,

sealed into their graves long ago,

but somehow resurrected just when everything seemed

to be going so well.

This type of cold cannot be shrugged off,

instead it chills every bone in my body

to the point where I become brittle as glass,

ready to shatter at the slightest tremor.

Somebody tell me,

how do I rise above this?


Daily Post: Above

Comments below, but please leave your bots at the door.

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.