You speak your darkness, you write your pain, Journey’s lost travels riding the brain. Demon’s haunt, shadows fall, freedom they need, All the while, your soul aches to bleed.
Breathe, just breathe, the darkness dispels, Emerge from your memory’s, exit your shell. It cannot take you where you do not will to be, Scream, lose the chains, you must break free.
Under, you are pulled, sucked inside your skin, Falling, falling, over and over, then once again. It is gone now. No help, no hope, no way out, Thoughts intermingle oh such pain and doubt.
Then the other: the other me. Not one but two, Scattered pieces of heart, laid bare by you. I am me, yet I am not, can you hear me cry? I am one, I am two, I am truth, I am a lie.
Shhh, quietly for the pain once again comes, The darkness fades with the morning sun. No, not really the darkness in my soul will stay, And so easily my reality will fade away.
© Cynthia Clark
I love the image of speaking darkness and writing pain. For much of the rest of the poem, you stay safe behind a turn of phrase, or cliché, or colloquialism. Those were less interesting. What if you took a risk from the first line and stayed with whatever you hide behind? Write it. Write the truth of it. Don't hold back.