Tales of Torment: Battle Scars

This body, has become a battle ground‐

I find it hard to believe in peace when this cloud of discomfort constantly surrounds me...

and I find it hard to disagree in that the fighting between my heart and mind might one day literally take my breath away.

Love no longer lives here, and hope is far beyond sight‐

into pieces, this vessel falls by day

and is cast off into the wind by night‐

what long, long ago was a free and empty space,

is now nothing other than a place of war.

What does this struggle testify to the cloud of witnesses watching?

—

This vessel is for what use, other than hosting spiritual violence within itself?

What's to come of this brawl beneath the surface of my flesh?

For what purpose, does enduring serve?

The suffering this agony breeds might just be the end of myself and everything in me‐

my life has become a never ending scrap between the scraps of my mind and the shards of what used to be my heart...

wants and needs fight in each and every minute,

my thoughts and feelings have never once experienced peace,

even the skin on my bones, fighting its own fatigue is beyond its limit.

What does this clash between me, myself and I, say to those who've chosen to pay attention?

—

Will this hellish load ever be lifted from my shoulders?

Am I selfish in saying that I'd rather not continue the running of this race?

This internal opposition has been weighing on me plenty‐

I've voiced my wish for freedom, to no avail...

I've spoken my desire to write of something else,

but this my only means of venting all that is always overwhelming.

I believe I have fought hard and for long enough,

I once thought that this would not be forever...

but I suppose I was proven wrong.

What has this pointless toil shown to the helpless audience of bystanders looking on?

—

This body, has nothing left‐

What can they say?...

"Hang in there!"

"Keep going!"

As if I haven't already been beyond my capacity, and to the extent of my memory‐

What will come from their mouths next?...

"Better days will come..."

"We're praying for you..."

As if I myself haven't‐

I'm afraid it may already be too late for even that.

—

Forgive my rage, my impatience, my doubt and my speech‐

I know I have no benefit in turning against my audience...

but I dont think there's any reason to prolong this torment I'm trapped in.

Hope is no more, and peace I dont believe is any longer such a thing‐

those were once desires, hung over my head for the sake of my torture,

now merely graves dug beside my feet.

As I stand here questioning why I haven't joined them,

I suppose that either I have not suffered from life's hell enough...

or that there is some reason, unbeknownst to me, that my bleeding heart still beats.

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