Hope.
A hollow
Word.
Surprise.

Love.
A hug
Or hard truth.
Both.

Faith.
Don’t have
That.
Nope.

I can’t do this.
I can’t do this.

I can’t outrun
the monsters
in my closet
under my bed
in my head.

When did I start wanting the thing to eat me?
When did my heart crack so bad I went numb?
When did my head start spinning?
When did it forget how to stop?

Guess this is life.
I can’t change it
I just can’t.

But then–
A shuffle.
A scratching.
A whisper.
You.
You knock.
And you keep knocking.
And you stay at the door.
You slide down against it.
And listen.
And wait.

Who’d want a broken toy like me?
There’s a bullet in my heart
Wrestling, aching, sucking
every breath.

Is this the nightmare
Or are you the dream?

I’m five years old,
swimming, climbing, jumping,
forgetting to be scared–
and no one makes my skin feel cold
or my eyes feel dirty.

To find myself stumbling…
To find myself dreaming…

To find myself away from myself.

Knock knock.