I am not the first to be beaten by the one they love
I am not the last to be beaten by the one they love
Secrets linger in the storm that skewers my emotions with a long metal stick
I always feel depressed even when I laugh & I still clean, cook, take care of my kids & do laundry
Always
I can’t stand living but I won’t hurt myself
I can’t stand everything, the smiles, the pruny fingers in the bath, the pain of a broken tooth
The lingering sore of my broken heart, chipped, flayed, crushed, lingering
Secrets of billions of the same quiet kind of inside death
We move around in a lively way yet we feel defeated, decimated, destroyed
Secrets that place a veneer of quiet complacency
Masks on top of masks
Once I stripped off my submissive wife mask
And it all came apart
Once I stripped my fake smile
It all came loose
But I still feel the ache pinch my nerves
So delicately
The mask still had connection to my nerves, fried, collapsed, collided and folded like misfiring prions
Worse than a zombie because at least they had a purpose, to make more zombies
I just sat around with a broken soul
Picking up pieces of masks that had no whole.
About the Creator
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Comments (4)
Emotive and effective piece, Melissa. 😊 These lines were some of my favourites, “Secrets that place a veneer of quiet complacency Masks on top of masks”. Hope you are going well.
Your writing gives a voice to a pain so many endure silently. The repetition of “I am not the first…I am not the last” underscores the universality of this hidden suffering.
Gosh this was so heartbreaking. I saw your reply to Novel that this happened in your past. I'm so sorry to hear that Merly 🥺 Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
Oh no. I hope this is not personal. If is is, there are no words. 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗❤️❤️❤️❤️🎼🎼🎼🎼Keep the faith...you will hear the music of life again. One just has to protect themselves from further pain. Be blessed M.