Masked

                                                                             Photo cred: Google

Warped.  Like sponge  absorbs water, the body absorbs it, pain. The best people have some sort of scars, they say. Should I carry them with pride, or carry them like they are heavy, the scars I mean, I ask myself.  What am I supposed to do? Does time really soothe and eventually heal it? What about the future triggers? This one could come back alive with full sparks as soon as one tiny word awakens the memory.

Grazed. Slightly, on the outside. Inside?  blood.  The inside is tortured. Bruised. Maybe scraped describes it better. This one here feels like a leader, it leads the tiniest of pains to the fore.They soldier behind it, and it grows in power. Defeat is the song. Tear wells run dry. Affected by drought they are. Emotion wells are damp. Pain drips. From the inside; the heart; the mind; the soul. From the outside, pains and fake happiness collide. Eccedentesiast. Smile drips of pain. Eyes glow of pain. Skin marred by pain. Frail body faking it. Fake it till you make it, they say, but what about future triggers. This one could blow this beautiful body into ugly debris.

Dismembered. To the bone. Body seems like one piece on the outside. Inside? A hall full of pieces. Pieces of me. Soaked in salty water. Scattered. Collapsed. The will to pick up fills the hall, but where does one begin?

Pain. For this long I've lived with it. For this long I've  carried it. I've listened to it. Felt it. Slept. Ate. Laughed and Travelled with it. Long distances and short distances. Naps and full night sleeps. For this long I've heard it through my ears, felt it my on my skin; tasted it on my tongue- I saw it with my eyes.Still body.Pounding heart.Lucid moments-well, at times.I have been masked enough.This cannot be me. I need me.

I don't know what to do with this pain anymore.

Somebody help me get out of here.