A seemingly impenetrable cloak
That if you stare close enough you can see
Snags brought on by what people have spoke
Holes brought on by my inability to make me, we.
Holes beginning to gape because they can't be fixed with a needle and thread
Sewn together to only burst at the seams.
Seams bursting at the most imperfect time
Putting myself out there seems reachable, but becomes a dream, that leaves me alone with only my scream.
A scream louder than the largest crowd, only heard in the confines of my mind
Rattling the inner workings, making me question if recovery is near.
The cloak gripped tightly for fear of exposing ones descent
Threads fraying, dragging the ground, reminding oneself of what they used to fear.
Used to bleeds to current, past fears becoming present.
Present, unwrapping them to deal with the pain, being fulfilled, but not with joy, but with heartbreak.
Filled with sadness, full, afraid to let go, fear of deflating to emptiness.
Clinging to memories that push me to the brink of death
Reminding me of my mortality, but also immortality
The never ending cycle of life, with no end in sight, each labored breath
Posing the question of which one will finally break my mentality?
But, alas, physical mortality nowhere in site, only self-recollection behind the bars I have created.
All I have waited for, now becoming a weight on my mind, a fate that leads me to hate what lies underneath.
A gust of wind lifting the fabric up, but not for long, the weight yanks its back, back to its perfect state-holes and all.