Trauma

Original Photography retrieved from unsplash.com by Obi Onyeador @thenewmalcolm
Strapped to the gurney
In and out of consciousness
I have to wonder
Will I make it here.
The ICU with this surge of patients.
Packed from end to end
But are there no ends.
To a means.
Can I survive here
That’s still unclear
After all It’s been two years
Heart break took place
Set in as if cancerous
Degenerative fate
My life still in shambles
Goddammit.
I thought I could manage.
I tried to handle the rapture,
On my own accord.
Got bible thumping pastors knocking at my Door;
Askin if I know the Lord.
Of course.
That’s a double edged sword though.
Pressure dressing used to be enough to 
Get me off the floor.
But
At this rate
Can’t even sustain the weight anymore.
You know pick up the pieces
Gorilla glue to the corners.
It should be good as new right?
Keep that hair intact
real tight.
In comes the decline.
The trauma seems to define
Me inside and out.
It’s like I’m broken and beaten,
Beaten and bruised
But thats old news.
Defibrillate the pacemaker
Before a heart stops racing.
I can’t take much more of this 
Shit. If I end it here will I be missed.
Fuck this shit.
Don’t think like that.
You’re better than this.
It’s hard to know anymore
I seldom know myself
When pressed are my issues
I hate that I miss you. Not you but the way Things used to be.
But the trauma centers got me restless
So let’s wait and see.

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