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“Inside the Inside
In the cave I cower
Against walls and floor as stoney
As my heart
I gain comfort
In the chill seeping into me
In the aches
In the emptiness
But
Even with its vastness
I feel suffocated
Claustrophobic
In its crushing space
The entrance
Invited me
Teased me
Safety, it promised
Warmth, it said
Comfort, it lied
So now, in the cave I cower
The entrance now an exit
One I can’t approach
For the teases are taunts
The invites are insidious
The promises perished
A mountain of self-doubt
Erupted like a volcano
Stands between us
In the cave of my self-image
I cower”
― Pieces of Me
In the cave I cower
Against walls and floor as stoney
As my heart
I gain comfort
In the chill seeping into me
In the aches
In the emptiness
But
Even with its vastness
I feel suffocated
Claustrophobic
In its crushing space
The entrance
Invited me
Teased me
Safety, it promised
Warmth, it said
Comfort, it lied
So now, in the cave I cower
The entrance now an exit
One I can’t approach
For the teases are taunts
The invites are insidious
The promises perished
A mountain of self-doubt
Erupted like a volcano
Stands between us
In the cave of my self-image
I cower”
― Pieces of Me
“Grief is a ghost that only time can exorcise.
Though Life has a hand in manipulating the heart in an effort to ease the effects of loss, the results can be mediocre at best. Work and play might pull at the mind’s hand, dragging it away from memories that refuse silence, but rest swats them away. All that remains when distractions take a breath, are tears.
Only Time has the power to heal the wounds grief carves into us. Only Time has the ability to smother them with a pillow of years, pressing down until they suffocate and cease to be. Until they fade. Or hide.”
― Black Thickett
Though Life has a hand in manipulating the heart in an effort to ease the effects of loss, the results can be mediocre at best. Work and play might pull at the mind’s hand, dragging it away from memories that refuse silence, but rest swats them away. All that remains when distractions take a breath, are tears.
Only Time has the power to heal the wounds grief carves into us. Only Time has the ability to smother them with a pillow of years, pressing down until they suffocate and cease to be. Until they fade. Or hide.”
― Black Thickett
