Wracking, wretching sobs.

Clawing themselves up

My throat.

Still, I’m silent.

Thick agony

Fighting to be free.

Rich, such potency.

It’s not

even me.

But, my attempt

In her

Life and shoes

Has, pathetically,

Left me

On my knees.

Alone, all alone.

A bird left

With her broken eggs.

Secret, so quiet.

Taking off

A scared mask.

Subject, dejected

To another

“Deserved” discipline.

Heartbroken, the end.

A death to cure

The harrowing pain.

Addictive, live on.

Faced with death

Souls persevere.

So, this

Muted moment

Is mine alone.

Fictional, a read.

But the trauma

Is real.

The pain is more than a lead can bear.

Reader, if a page communicates

The deep, deep pain,

Know the author is content

In their writing grave.