It's the same reoccuring thoughts every sunday night.
It's become a ritual.
Sometimes I wish I could take everything from my past
mistakes i've made
things i've let happen to me
people i've let slip through my fingers
slam them all down on a desk
and stand on top of it all.
I'd be the tallest thing in the room
and physically "above" anything that's hurt me.
Maybe that's what gets me.
It's not that easy.
It takes effort
time.
patience.
more hurting.
before healing.
it's like the undertow of the ocean.
I'm trying to swim but it keeps pulling me under
the threat of drowning dripping from it's lips.
and so it begins.
the time.
the effort.
the patience.
i'm prepared for the hurting.
before the healing.
but I can't live another day
knowing that if something happend to him
that I didn't even try.
or atleast try to my full potential.
his sillouette still roams in this room
that used to be his.
today the haunting of the past ends.
and the promise of family begins.
No comments:
Post a Comment