no. 2: Almighty

Sometimes the fluidity of my emotions is alarmingly solid.
and like clay they seem to clump together into an unidentifiable mass.

Sometimes they drift through the leafless branches of the trees that remind me of security.
occasionally they rustle through the dying bark, and through the brown needles littering the ground.
occasionally they stop.

-
Clay.
-

Turns out the ridicule begins to wear one down a bit.
it starts at the shoulders, and the joints become tattered and disjointed.
then in your wrists, you forget how to use the empowering pen in your journal.
once it hits your feet, walking is no longer an escape but the shackles that bind you to your hell.

I raise the white flag Almighty God.

I surrender.

I dug my way through the clay that claimed my emotions, and as they bled out of my shattered world, they mixed with the very obstacle I had to climb through.

The trees don't blow in the wind anymore, Almighty God.
i don't hear the leaves lift off the ground, only to brush across my shaken skin.
i don't even hear my own music anymore, as it slips of my fingers, and out into breath.

I raise the white flag Almighty God.

Everyone has fallen from my side, and you have me alone.
i stand here, war torn, distraught, medicated, afraid, hopeless, exhausted, breathless, but strong.

Digging through the clay left me vulnerable.
Digging through the clay left me vulnerable.
Vulnerable.

So take the shot.

I raise the white flag.