The Moments I Lock Away

You are most terrifying when you're a mess:
Eyes burning and outpouring as you scream into the void
with a rumble from within you that tells of your hell
bursting at the seams.
Heart beating like angry fists at the door,
like the sounds of a downpour on a tin roof,
like the lonely echoes of each time it was hurled carelessly into the dirt.

Hands trembling as you retreat with hurried steps
back to that place in your head where all the doors are closed
and the room is black as night.
Hands viciously cradling your skull when the rain won't stop
and the fists never give up;
willing the darkness to consume you,
hoping that you cease to exist
or that you will suddenly emerge
reborn as less of a fragile thing
and more of all the wrath of heaven.

Ink smudged on lined paper as you frantically try to turn tears into words,
hoping retrospect will one day redeem
from all the ways you've gone astray.

Locks of hair on the floor as if to cut the parts of you that you hate from your soul,
as the eyes in the mirror stare back at you with the horrible truth,
but you decorate your breathing corpse
with a made up face
and smile for the world
hoping bandages of vanity will fix
a broken heart.

Your mind spinning like a violent, endless carousel
when the lights and the music aren't fun anymore,
your stomach is sick,
and the world outside is a blur.

Your soul whispering "peace be still"
with the untainted essence
of who you are,
reminding softly and patiently
"try again tomorrow"