The cut of the blade & something about getting better

Location

10459
United States
40° 49' 42.6144" N, 73° 53' 30.804" W

The blade of your words they cut, they cut.
Deeper than any edge,
so deep, so deep.
Causes my blood to boil and seep,
through any place available throughout my body.

The bubbles of my boiled blood seep through and pop blue.
You have stopped my lungs from producing air, and now my blood can no longer recognize oxygen.
You have constructed an ideal for me,
perfection,
and if I can not always be there,
then I will be tossed like litter.
You have confused my perception of who I am,
now I am neither a boy nor am I a man but instead,
a crippled cockroach feeding on what even my own species would call garbage.

I feel I should no longer feel yet,
I still have the lingering stinging sensation of your blade.
The blade that is your tongue,
despite being made of silver it cuts deeper than diamond.
The blade, the blade, the blade was not there, yet I can see my blood coagulating.

I keep bleeding because my heart has yet to stop beating.
I want it to stop but a promise was made as a young boy that we would not be cheating on life with death.
All I ever had left from my early youth was my will, and you won’t break that.
My heart and my soul,
I let you take that.
But this new chill that you feel is from the person I aim to be.
And my will to be better than him will not yet be sullied.
This world will reject him,
but only because they will not see his being as possible.
My will, will only grow to be unbreakable,
because it is solid, yet imperceptible as who I want to be.
You may flee, and reject me should you desire, and return to do it again,
because I choose to be this naive.
I know one day you may need me again, and if not I hope it’s only due to you finding something better.
The wound will grow like an infection, but my will, will keep me moving.
We will get better, and better, and if patience allows you we will one day settle, but only after much hardship, seen and unseen.
One day I will become even better than the one of your dreams. With or without you.
Nonetheless despite the use of your blade, know i’ll be here for the next cut.

Your blade, your blade, your blade will still sting, but perhaps one day it will be used in surgery to stitch and heal.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741