Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

I’ll sail the ocean in sunset

Reexashley

--

Crimson.

If rage had a colour, I imagine that to be it.

In both its richness and deepness ,

Void of hope, void of courage,

trapped underneath a deafening trepidation.

A fear that is crippling as it is numbing.

Your hands grow tired of reaching out to solace, so you hold them in tight fists, a shield , a wall , a form of defence , a boundary.

To posses a smile that never reaches your eyes,

to feel a storm brewing inside, to have it echo in dead silence, to have a scream reside in you, no one else’s, yours alone, yours to hear , to bear ,to carry.

To wish to drown in something other than your own thoughts because even in an empty room,

you are never alone and the voices in your head become too loud you cant even hear yourself breath.

To be a mode of transport for passengers inside your head only to realise that the concept of a destination was an illusion.

You are it. You are home.

So you hope to fall asleep before you fall apart and dance around the hope that maybe if you are happy in your dream it might count.

Some relief ,some form of exhale.

So when your mother says “ how long are you going to hold on to the things that hurt you? just drop them” as i look up from my pool of despair l wonder “how do i do it? where do I drop them mama?”

-reexashley-

--

--

Responses (1)