Forgotten

Strung high on a line of hate and anger, watched by vultures who crave the opposing sides of who I am and who they wish I could be. Backpedaled into icy embrace, who am I?

Beaten down by verbal vixens who can’t understand the depth of the ocean doesn’t compare to the surface of a man’s eyes. Paranoid hands pin spinning daggers into flesh, hoping for a sign of guilt.

Chest carved empty for the echoing screams to reverberate against peaceful dreams. My mind is swimming, drowning in the endless night sky, counting stars in mock of the hours lost without the comfort of sleep.

Productive measures left coiled like tapes, shoved in drawers and building up the rage that threatens to calcify and spiral systematic repetition into insanity. Routine is the enemy when solid ground crumbles under steady feet.

Whistle blower whose lungs collapse during the warning, tunnel is lit from both ends, making it harder to find the beginning. Weight carrying shoulders beyond the wind, storms have past, I see the train coming.