I Could
I Could hope stories
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Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
I could scream, but it wouldn’t be enough.

I Could

I could scream, but it wouldn’t be enough.

It would not exorcise my demons,

nor would it bring me any comfort.

I would not feel any better for it,

but my throat might get sore.

I could cut, and the endorphins would rush,

then I would feel ashamed,

and have to hide the scars,

and more would certainly follow,

it’s not a real solution.

I could cry, but I can’t,

even though I badly want to,

for reasons I don’t comprehend.

It would feel good, and sad,

to cry out these emotions.

I could drink, but I’d lose control,

my wife would likely leave,

and I wouldn’t blame her one bit.

Drinking is bad news for me,

at least I finally saw that.

I could run, but I’m trapped at home,

with two young needy children,

who can’t be simply left alone.

I love them both so much,

but they are also my wardens.

I could play a game, but I’ll lose interest,

nothing I haven’t seen before.

I’ll putter for a few minutes,

then turn on a rerun,

and try to think of something else.

So I write, because I can create,

because it gives me some control,

it unclogs my clogged mind,

and I can do it most of the time,

It will have to do for now.

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