Tidal Wall

Did you ever wish you didn’t exist?
I have.

Do you ever wonder why you are the way you turned out?
Do you ever feel as if some integral part of you has been dissected, broken inside of you or lost beyond finding?

I have and every now and then, I do.

I do.

The leaves fall and I could speak out.
Then summer comes in fast and mighty
and I’m coy in my recoiling.
I’m sly in my avoiding.

There’s no arguments to be had when my voice is simply too small.

I thought I was enough but I continue to fall short.
Outspoken and slighted are you.

By who?
There’s adjustments to be made.

I can’t speak up.
You’re right.
Booming is your shout and your whisper.

Abomination, I hate myself for loving.
I hate my being so small.
I’m frail.

Everyone thinks they know me.
They’re not even breaking the slightest of surfaces.
Keep assuming, keep on keeping up with the Joneses.

I thought I was enough but I continue to fall short.
It’s coming.
I know it’s coming.

There’s a tidal wave and monsoon.
I’m drowning against the wall I continue slamming into.

2 Comments

  1. I love this so much.

    I read it from a place where I felt so slammed and alone… with no way out, other than someone sharing a piece of tidal wall with me.

    It’s hinting at so many things I want to say right now, but can’t.

    It’s one last stir of gentle phosphorescence before the lights go out.

    Get off the wall now, sis. Please. You have so much more ahead of you. Leave the place of slammed and broken things –

    I’ve got this.

    Liked by 1 person

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