Broken Art/Burning Stars

The pain keeps me grounded, the agony keeps me sane. It stops these wicked thoughts from forming as it kills me all the same.

The aches keep me whole even as I fall apart, the scars hold me together as a broken work of art.

These tatters are my riches, the ragged holes my gold, they leak the inspiration for the words that seem to flow.

When the darkness grows to large and their whispers to great I wrap my tatters close and clutch to this aching scars to let them lead me onward like the burning of the stars.

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Remember, you’re not alone.

While I don’t talk about it much, and I tend to not share personal thoughts, I can say that I have my some issues to deal with up inside my skull. I don’t like voicing them outside of poems, not in such a public forum I suppose, it strikes me as complaining and the voice in the back of my head tends to rail at about how little I have to complain about.

I’ll be honest, if my head wasn’t on a bit wrong I wouldn’t have much to talk about, but then my muse wouldn’t be much of a muse then either I think. Which might be something to look into at another time. However, while that’s all well and good, I wanted to talk about that little voice that, to some extent I feel everyone has, self doubt I suppose? Louder for some than others but it’s there, and some have it worse with the level of, cruelty exhibited, but to some extent everyone gets jabbed by something like it I feel. If I’m wrong feel free to correct me here, but others deal with it more regularly than some, and for others it’s always there. I know that’s to a large extent true for me.

Now this isn’t so much about complaining, or saying I have it bad, I deal with the cards I got, I can’t change the hand I’m dealt so I might as well make it work. Granted I’m in a bit of a zen mood at the moment, the fact it won’t last is a forgone conclusion, but all of this has something I’m leading up to.

Just remember, you’re not alone in this, if you’re ever having issues, any issues, talk to someone, write it out, do something, even if its going for a walk to somewhere away from people to just scream out the frustration of it all, do something. It helps me at least, to find a way to get it all out.

I just wanted to say that, and to share a bit of a gem I found that I really like and is fitting for this subject anyway. It’s a song by a YouTuber that goes by Chris Ray Gun the song being “Reality Calls” and well, listen to it, it’s pretty fitting all around for the experiences I’ve gone through with my problems anyway. I don’t know if that’s true for your experiences, but I hope, whatever problems you’re going through, big or small, they all get sorted out. (Linked video below)

Reality Calls by Chris Ray Gun

Liar’s Mind

Standing inside my center I see my tainted core, and through it I see myself, shattered forever more. The breaks are not apparent, and are nowhere close to clean, from what little I can see, nothing is what it seems.

Confusion is a constant, pain is just a blur, happiness a fleeting wish, something here only for me to miss. Standing here surrounded, by those I know and love, a smile for a second, before the sadness comes. From where it came it will return, only to be returned to me anew. This is the fear, the constant dread, the haze I live my every day in.

I see it clearly, but can’t stop, knowing makes it worse, as much as it makes me better, the doubt adds to the pain, believing one is real, another a lie, makes me wonder about how honest is my mind? How much to doubt, how much do I know, can I trust myself?

No, I don’t believe so. Inside my center once more, watching that tainted core, throwing off that poison, that sad fate, there’s nothing I can do, no acceptance nor reprieve, for none of that would last, not with in this wretched place.  So, with a smile upon my face, I hide it with in my false grace,  a liar’s mask for a lying mind, an actor in a play, simply reading lines.

I owe those I love more than that, but at this time it’s all I can grasp. A liar’s mind is my curse, my secret shame, even though it could hold my call to fame. I know it well this endless game, but I wish, just once I wish I was the same, that knew my thoughts were just my own, not part and parcel of some flaw, some illness, or wretched disease.

I wish I knew what calm felt like, or happiness without fear, I wonder often what it’s like to not be this anxious when others are near. To know and trust myself and my feeling, to wonder what it’s like to feel a thing for more than a seconds thought, to continue that strain, instead of having it overwritten, or washed away like it was some harsh stain. I wonder what that’s like, to have a core that isn’t strained, isn’t stained, isn’t cursed or tainted. To have one that might be dented, a little marred and slightly scarred but still pure, untainted, untouched by the illness of a liar’s mind. Oh, how I wish I could know that, for at least a time.