Day to Day Poetry, poetry

Day to Day Poetry #59

There is fear in my tongue.
It prevents me from speaking truths.
I speak only in metaphors and alliterations
and manipulative codes.
Every story I share is full of
dramatic pauses and hesitations,
I am constantly second-guessing –
do I want to be heard?
Do they want to hear me?

There is fear in my hands.
It controls me from palm to fingertip
and forces me to clutch at every pained human being I see,
even at the cost of ripping my own skin,
because making other people’s problems my own,
is easier than having to be constantly aware
and recognize the deep well I have buried myself in,
made of my own denial and procrastination.

There is fear in my eyes.
It blinds me.
It filters my vision and only allows
the new, scary and unknown
to be seen with intense clarity –
it convinces me that these are the only things that exist,
because what is comfortable is a part of who I am,
and who I am is not worth seeing.

There is such fear in my heart.
It erases everyone who hurts me in the slightest,
and takes everything so ferociously personally.
I end relationships before it even begins,
to avoid being broken, betrayed and left bewildered,
floundering for closure, and
trembling,
sinking within the memories of now empty apartments,
with only tiny tendrils of recollection to hold me still,
and fragments of arguments reverberating
with the listless pounding of my heart.

Fear is the only thing I know at 2 in the morning.
It sedates me into becoming a perpetual wanderer,
one who flies through universes, only to land randomly,
cornered into a cage of my own creation.

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