How painful it has been to be loved by me.
How sad a story.
My exes got tired of playing me the worlds smallest violin.
Became exhausted from my excuses excusing my abusive behavior.
My patterns an emotional rollercoaster;
A hamster wheel:
A cycle of repetition;
Of generational connections;
A few of my lovers loved me so hard it broke them.
My therapist says,
One pill a day would keep me still enough not to split. should consider checking my imbalances;
Repress my anger as a form of healing.
Has been form of healing; survival of the fittest;
A way I have taught myself protection.
Hold your head !
Don’t fold !
Hide them knees from shaking!
Fear is weakness, Pussy.
My tongue has become sword and pistol.
My hands Granades themselves, I detonate every time.
My scars, have become hardened and overly sensitive;
A constant reminder of where I’ve been so that I never return there again.
a prayer away from finding a kind of peace no doctor can sign off on.
A work in progress but not quite a paragon, yet a diamond still.
A stone pressed until its crystals crack through the surface; to reach for its light.
And it shines;
Like it was suppose to.
BIO: Phree is an Interdisciplinary Artist who utilizes their gift of creativity as a tool to address self, life and it’s experiences. Art is healing.
Photo by Sarah Leamy