A Home For The Broken People

Million Men

July 7th 2020
10:12pm

I remember smelling a burnt excuse and candle fumes.
Tightening eyes and silent cries that came out as the words of the silent.
Hands up shirts on a twin sized matress, nicotine soaked the air with withdrawn violence.
I remember dry heaving crying.
My throat burning out pleas of help.
Cover in tv screens and video game computers.
Dark nights only become beautiful when we are dying.
Reports to the police never felt like a betrayal, until these words spilled from my finger tips dripping with grief.
Falling onto tear stained paper and bed sheets.
A flower died unbloomed that night.
Secrets which were made to be spilled became vibrant.
My heart started a riot within me, against me, against itself.
A crush that begun to crush me, leaving splintering pieces in the dull matress, whimpering feeligs held captive.
Tonight I started breathing again, one full shuttering breath after another.
Reverberating through me in a fearful excitment, you cant control me anymore.
No more calloused fingers with crippling touch.
No more heavy breathing echoing into my ears.
No more steady heartbreak, but a healing that comes from within it.
The flower in which you destroyed, finally started to bloom.