V.S. Woodraven, Something or rather.
“I don’t always feel the way I want to. I sometimes don’t get the luxury of blowing off what I feel quickly enough for it to not make an impact. Try as I may to not regard my feelings, they are always there, lurking. Feelings, in that way, are non- consensual. They push and paw until they are at the epicenter of my brain and on the tip of my tongue. I rarely feel like I have a choice. I barely have the self-control to fight them. It would make things so much easier, I think, if my emotions were not always written on my face. I do not know why I feel the things I do but I would really like too.”
Emotions,
Pesky things they are.
Interesting though, because emotions constitute my job.
I listen to their problems, as my own beckon from a locked door,
Starved and emaciated from restricting life.
I hold them off for a while.
Triumphant in a endless battle, I refuse to bow to their audacity.
I hold them off for so long; I forget to maintain my shield.
I forget to hold my sword up.
And they pierce me through.
Suddenly, the lurk is up.
They are here big, bright, black, and blue.
Like a bruise. At first, tender to the touch, numbing as it fades
The facade says I’m renewed,
but, my brain knows the truth.
Frozen in pain.
A single friendly face and I explode.
A sopping, sobbing, titanium mess,
I’m covered in rust; despite the impossibility of rust.
The explosion only triggers more and more and more and more.
The relief is overwhelming; I’m giddy with the spinning.
But, the morning is unforgiving.
Wave after wave after wave after wave after wave after wave.
The relief exchanged for horror. How could I be so callous of human life?
I thought it a small price to pay admitting pain;
Surely relief isn’t such a selfish gain.
Surely they would leave if it was too much;
me and my titanium mess.
Surely they would pull back and tell me to find another place to crash.
Surely, they would look out for themselves- I won’t have to worry about that.
Yet, the more I reason, the more I am sure.
I went too far, fooled by the allure that such big feelings must not be controlled;
They could be let out to roam.
They could become wild without causing danger.
I was wrong.
Very wrong, I see, why else is this new day so ugly?
I begin to reason again.
If I fix this, this, and this- I’ll be operational again.
A metallic beast.
“I miss you”
” You never text”
These and more ring through my head.
I’m just not sure its worth the pain in the end.
I’m always calculating the risk, formulating the words, and practicing.
Just in case, I’m caught unaware.
Then again,
I forget titanium people never share.
I wasn’t always so contained.
I’m just tired of all the weight.
Strength is the only way;
to bear it all.
Yet, I’m fragile if I fall.
Not malleable.
I dent, paint scratched, twisted pieces of shining metal, unwrapped.
No longer a shape, just a crying shame.
I’m trying to decide,
If its still not worth the pain inside,
if the pain is only a temporary duration.
Or stay in my titanium shell,
twisted, dented, wondering if I’m dying inside.
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