Poetry- Aiming Blindfolded

Poetry, Darkness- Aiming blindfolded 

From time to time, I let my brain wander, aimlessly- without the carefully placed controls that keep me upbeat and functional. I’m learning to actually enjoy the process of wading into the darkness, little by little. Trying to find emotional intelligence somewhere within the chaos that has become my heart has proven to be most complicated.  

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I detest the awkward vibe of inner conversations/ the actions or lack of in certain situations/ my mind starts reeling with broken negotiations/ sucked into the quicksand of reflective frustrations/ my psyche loses any proper motivation/ it bathes in familiar and painful humiliation as a result of this vapid inner communication.

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Why does pain lurk around the dull and dingy corridors of life? Thoughts which inspire melancholy are waiting for weakness to settle in, waiting until the heart is free, happy, and light. No matter how much one cleans and scrubs away the stuck on dust within the minute recesses of the dirty, broken doorways, regret, anger, fear,and resentment always lie in waiting for the door to be opened again, often resurfacing without invitation.

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Cycling endlessly, tired and worn- Days where you wonder why you were born

Nights where you wonder why you’re still alive- Suffering from broken fragments inside

The waves roll in and they roll back out- Until you’re consumed with pathetic self doubt

You begin to get frustrated with the person you are- inner peace, out of reach, just a little too far

There’s a pill that can magically keep demons at bay- you keep fighting the darkness alone anyway

People get sick of hearing you bitch- They think it’s as easy as flipping a switch

No idea what it’s like to want to give up- What it’s like to find nothing in your always empty cup

But there’s strength that comes from having to fight- Sparks fly and hope is a fuse that ignites

Somewhere inside is planted a voice- It reminds you of the fact that there’s limited choice

Either embrace that you have this darkness inside- and just go along with each harrowing ride

Or end the book mid chapter, mid story- Because life so far has been just short of gory

But a fighter you’ve been and you’ll be til the end- So you hold onto the darkness, the old familiar friend

In the meantime, you’re weary, you’re worn, you’re tired- As you work toward the peace you’ve always desired.

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Mental Warfare 

You’re right. Until you’re wrong. You’re not really sure. You hem. You haw. You take your sweet time. Decisions are made and life moves forward without your sniveling, snarling consent. They can’t take you screaming and kicking anymore. They’ll go on without you. You hurt people without realizing it. When the realization dawns, it’s too late to make it right. Regret settles in. You have no time to analyze it. You move on to the next thing. You make poor decisions. You choose to give time and energy to people who thrive on sucking the life out of you. You self heal. You meditate. You feel good about life for a little while and positive things start to flow in. Something or someone comes out of nowhere and the next thing you know, you’re derailed. Overcompensating. Over thinking. Over promising with good intent. The darkness snatches the little bit of hope and light you’d been holding on to and the promises you’ve made go down the drain as rumination, degradation, and humiliation take over. Your song is playing on a tiny violin that only you can hear. You cry. You scream. You write. You do all the things that are suggested. Still, you’re not really sure. So you wait. Because it’s all you can do. Wait it out. Find joy in the agony of the storm. Let the rain fall because, the truth is you can’t stop it. Your power is limited. There are things you can’t control. And you have to find peace in that when the rain stops and the darkness dissipates and life becomes beautiful again.

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