To Scream
written by: H.T. Walker
There are times I wanted to scream,
Wanted to shout,
Not for help but for hope.
A hope that I could feel the tears
run down my cheek, staining them glossy.
A hope that I will feel the lump in my throat
when I try to look them in the eye.
A hope that I can warble and garble words,
spitter and sputter out my reasons in broken breaths.
A hope to be a mess and let myself unravel ugly.
Cause it would be better to feel
something, anything!
Than sit and stare there numb
to the storm that should have brewed
with thunderstorms and lightning and angry seas.
To sit and stare,
with a burn in your chest,
that doesn’t subside and
is left there like sewage after a flood.
But I have two homes,
with none of them safe enough.
So I’ll hold it in for one more year,
And pray the hot sticky residue doesn’t corrode me from within.
Just one more year…
Till then I can live
like ragdoll
with only logic turning the gears.
