“Maimed” By Robin Chappell

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Noticing me when I’m happy doesn’t always mean I feel free

Waves of violent water rush through my head like the sound of chaos

There is no true comfort for the traumatized and the lost

The skin I dress myself in everyday needs washing with my linens

I’ve been wearing it a lot, but I fear that it’s staining and beginning to rot

When I look around I see weathered grays and matte blacks thickening with dread

I try and tug out the strings being pulled back and forth inside of my head

If I ever speak of my mental monstrosities I constantly see, you’d lobotomize me

So I have to find ways to embrace them acceptably, but it’s running thin

They’re beginning to seep out and run in tiny trickles down my skin

Puddles of despair form a creek below my feet

Small enough to splash around in…deep enough to drown me

Incessantly it sneaks up on me like the grim reaper when I am too happy

We play hide and seek when the depths of sadness runs deep

Barely even noticing me….