Walking Barefoot

Photo by Alicia Zinn on Pexels.com

28

They say there’s a devil inside of you. A devil inside to hide the night away, and to get away with murder is the devil we seek to know. To understand all that is I, I need to understand the demon before me. Is it just my inside voice, am I going crazy, or is crazy all of the things inside of me and my normalcy has been triumphantly strong but ready to break all the same? Like a vase, I shatter of glass. All of these pieces needing to be put back together but by one so unbalanced. I can’t seem to stop it’s fearful shaking hands to superglue me whole again. I seem strong, but I am so torn.  So ready to break, so already broken and such a frail heart covered by the least amount of hope one could have. We walk around each day forcing ourselves to smile at each other but no one knows the truth of anything our steps make. So we keep walking only to hope again the next person we cross might give the necessary pleasantries. You look at my picture, I smile, and you can’t see what I see. Until you really look inside of the soul no one knows but the heart steadily gives away, will you see truth. Will you see it? Will it scare you? Does it already make you uncomfortable? My eyes that stare at you filled with the demon holding true. But I always used to be the happy one, how do I live within a shell of a shell of a shell of a shell of life. I ask myself, “Who am I supposed to tell about this?” Do I keep it as my secret? But I can’t. I don’t like lying and feel like I’m a walking liar to all truths people want to see in me. Also a walking failure….oh, wait there it is. My demon introduces itself. Do we all have one? I, to this day have no idea. Mine is incessant. Nonstop talking while every time I try and shut it up, it’s just egging it on to keep going. It makes me contemplate the worst of the worst. If I am the worst, then I should either live in the worst way, or go in the worst way. As long as I can find away to make it be the worst then I can have the authority to call it home. Then, I am allowed to be. Just let me be, that’s all I want. But that’s not good enough for the demon that breaks me. Nothing will be good enough to stop it. No place will ever be good enough. I, will never be good enough. Unless it is to shatter, then when something pierces my heart like glass will life seem fair. As long as I’m hurting, will everything seem even then.

Advertisements