Like a wind that sweeps you under and leaves your body powerless and drowning...so is my rage.
I want to fight. I need to fight. It will be the only way to survive.
But my mind is weakened by the memories of the past.
My body is whipped by the chilling fact that I am a worthless,useless knick knack that is put in the box for the next yard sale.
But that sale never comes. It just sits in the box, collecting dust. Being forgotten about how happy it made you when you first received it as a gift. Now there is no room for it, no use. It got broken and instead of caring for it and trying to repair the damage you just shoved me in a box.
My rage is now at a point, it seems, of no return.
I want to beat and pound and wail. I want to cut, burn and bury.
I want relief, I beg for it. But it never seems to come.
I am on life support but it seems like that isn't allowing me to grow stronger. It just allows me to not slip all the way under.