Roget’s has dozens of words
To describe my state of being.
Numbness is protective steel,
Keeping myself safe from the
Sharpness of amplified feelings.
Numbness is a blanket of apathy
That protects my soft underbelly
From flaming darts that fly at me.
Natural or by man contrived,
A deadness of heart and soul,
Keeps me trudging in this life.
Head down, glazed over eyes,
One foot in front of the other.
Like a slowly dripping leak,
Each day melts into the next.
Blank stare and a fake smile,
Pretending everything is fine.
Smoldering embers of pain
Burn concealed on the inside.
How much longer until the fire
Burns through the interior and
The blazing inferno breaches
The counterfeit calm exterior?
Ethereal, cellophane, transparent,
She moves through life like a wind.
Looking, acting, feeling, hungering,
But others don’t even notice her being.
She hurts, cries, aches to be seen,
But all that is noticed is rustling trees.
She causes pain, lets flow her blood,
All that is noticed is rain making mud.
Empty, weak, her face low in the dirt,
Learning invisibility can deeply hurt.
My pain is invisible.
There are no compound fractures,
Melanomas, or lacerations.
No sign of concussions, contusions,
Burns, bumps, or bruises.
But I’m bleeding on the inside.
Mood disorders and depression
Wage their attack internally.
There is no superficial wound to display
My pain for the world to understand.
I’m bleeding on the inside.