If I Could Scream and Leave

There are days when I wish
It was acceptable to stand outside
And scream. To release the thoughts
And emotions I swallow every day
Loose, like they’re my own little
Apocalypse.
The faces that pass me by
Are full of lines and shades,
And mine just seems obtuse,
Like someone spilled the last of the salt
And I was given pepper.
It’s time like these
When I feel most painfully
Alive. As if I had already lived happily
And died right after, and this
Is limbo. Hell would be living it all over
Again, only to realize perhaps I was
Never alive.

There are days when I wish
Whatever’s over the horizon
Would dig its way under me instead.
That it’d reach through
Pull me in, and
Embrace me.
I told myself once that I’d
Leave here the moment I could.
That I would wash away my past
As if ink were my blood
And paint myself a mysterious past
And become my own perfect stranger.
I’d become the storybook
Renegade post-traumatic
Mess of a disorder who’d catch girls
Like roses in my teeth, spin tires
Just for fun, and chase death like
A sugar-high child.

I’d be lying, however, if I didn’t have one
Hesitation. I would stay for the sun.
If she peeked over that horizon, I’d grab on to
Her rays and never let go, even if I went blind.

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