A Tumultuous Space

I do not hate myself,

Or the very least I try not to.

As the adrenaline courses through these veins,

I drop my woes to the stairs.

Down I hope they run,

Far from where I intend to be.

But they hang and they scrape at my ankles;

Slowly creeping up pass to my knees.

And I scream “God help me!”

He has heard me before.

He knows the sound of my heart falling,

Spilling out on the floor.

There are those who would criticize me,

Obsess with my hypocrisy.

But it is mine to own and conquer,

So I turn the mirror;

It’s their time to see.

I find the courage to cut the source,

Bleed it dry while with gentle words I coerce.

Let me be,

For I will,

But let go of your willful chains on me.

Let me be,

I say,

As the inner turmoil slips away.