Self Inflicted Stitches

Soft songs
Occupy hard places in my head
Where when left alone only chaos rains
My thoughts seem reigned by many
But somehow never myself.
I want to listen to heavy songs but I can’t take any more weight
The wait is killing me
They say stay a little while longer
And it will be okay
But I don’t know if I can take it
They say time heals all things
But I don’t know if time can mend this
At least not without a nasty scar and some stitches
And to be honest I was never good at waiting for things to be sewn
Haste is in my bones
And it’s hard to keep living when the only thing
That they prescribe is patience.
I’m a sprinter and this is not my first marathon
But I fear it will be my last.
I hope I can endure,
Somehow time is both my enemy and my cure.
Hope will be my blanket and my pillow
And time my medicine.
But it’s hard when your blanket grows thin.
Hopefully even when left on a bare floor,
I will remember why it is worth it.
And that is to see sunrises
And sunsets
And make memories that will
Make the old ones forget.
And to do that I must be a patient with better patience and my own seamstress.


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