It will get better, it always does yet not before I’m exhausted, bloody in battle weak. I do look on the bright side of the crap pile blow flies are butterflies, well this walk down mental health alley a month now of fighting everyday has me in complete agony. Agony. If my arm were hanging off or skin burned beyond recognition I could say agony and it’s a obvious, me my disease my internal flesh eating virus munching up my heart. I’m in agony. Emotional distress, I’m feeling a thousand things a thousand different ways the logic in me works past the pain with techniques I’ve been taught to relax this here, I’m completely a sitting duck. Agony.
I’m sitting with my gorgeous everything’s with all the dreams I had are bundled in my lap, why does my heart keep aching? This is a guilty plea how can I have everything yet feel empty. It’s the disease, it will get better. The sun will feel warm again, colours will glow and my skin won’t hurt soon, it will get better.
I sat in the shower begging all above to just stop, I’m just so exhausted. My soul feels dim.
I’m a mess held together with only self will, I refuse to be blown out.
Nibble, nibble your not deserving,
Nibble nibble, your a horrible person.
Nibble nibble, just have a drink, just one.
Nibble nibble, not even a mother can love you.
Nibble nibble… nibble nibble my heart is broken.
It will get better.
I know this yet at this point in dancing with the devil I’m begging for relief.
How do o explain the invisible?