The Cry From a Ghetto's Heart | Página 56

Losing Myself

I have become numb to it all.

Attractions are now distractions.

Distractions are now just the actions when they get too close.

No longer wishing to impose myself on someone else,

I want to go back on the shelf.

I want to be returned to its rightful owner.

If my heart can no longer be fixed then I no longer want to be a donor.

No trade in or loaners.

Feelings have taken over.

I allow myself to sit idle.

I am no longer confident in the Bible.

And survival is hard enough because I am not on TV.

No one wishes to be me.

No one wishes to see me.

But at the same time I am confined.

Losing my mind slowly but surely,

But when they applaud me I receive life.

And even though death may be the final price,

I am living now.

Poetry has taught me how to survive.

Not just to live but to come alive.

It has sparked a passion in my eyes.

And the prize is life.

It is to breath, believe, achieve, succeed, but I bleed.

I slowly heal.

My life can’t be real.

I just want to wake and get a break from it all.

No phone calls,

No visits at all,

But I am ok.

Because I was born this way,

And up to this present day, I am still alone.

But still I slowly heal.