It's hard
that's pain, leaving it piece by piece,
it was broken anyway,
no one could fix it (it's not like a bicycle
or a minor cut, not even like cancer),
no one even wanted to fix it:
for the longest time, it defined me, made me
feel so powerful,
not letting it go, but letting it harden
like a rock, a proud rock, not letting in
water, not letting anything or anyone in,
blocked, uncommitted, not being able to
believe
that people really existed.
It is like you're one of the dead, trying to
make yourself believe you are
not affected by the living,
but even the not even born
are affected by the living, so
I ask, where have those pieces
of pain gone.
They broke my face off piece by piece,
easing its gestures, making the access
to emotions and thoughts so much easier
onto my face, into my face, the gates open...
the iron wall breaks to let in the dead
even after...
