The Breaking

I fill my poems with violence and sin,
Full of prayers and second-hand anthems.
A prodigal tongue of ravenous lies,
In a world of transparent phantoms.

My life is a wild anthology,
Amplified chaos in spoken word.
Writing like I have six months to live,
My sick thoughts becoming overheard.

My stomach becomes a mass of fear,
Silence is not an obligation.
My bruises are for me to poke at,
Don’t worship me as your creation.

There is no right or wrong, only a choice,
The raging tempest of my control.
Keeping everything inside my mouth,
As despair and anguish flee my soul.

Speaking is spoken medicine,
Trying to rip out the resurrection.
Ashamed of the scars I can’t reveal,
From a page of childlike affection.

Don’t look and me and my broken wings,
Disrupted tales of flesh and spirit.
Don’t tell me my silence is to blame,
When you know nothing of pain and grit.

Written in 2019. ‘The Breaking’ was awarded Highly Commended in the Mayoral Creative Writing Prize (Adult – Poetry).

Published: Medium


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