Its not regressing, it’s oppressing.
I’m no longer messing
Around with the sound of my voice in my ear.
Have I really forgotten everything I’ve learned?
All that I’ve yearned
To explore, deplore, find the corner where it tore
Find a way to piece it back?
It’s not for a lack of trying.
I’ve been on this journey before,
Handling them gently, like daggers.
The grip is tight, and it matters,
For even as I fight, the plunge runs deep.
And there I am, lost in my keep,
Tied up, worn out, full of heart-doubt.
A sigh of sorts escapes me, a small plea
To return to the world, known.
In my struggle to understand the joy in demand,
I push aside the rage
And pay homage to shame.
I am so glad you came.
I’m the only one here in what appears
To be the small pocket of my heartThat refuses to eject rejection.