Swallow

I can't do this alone.

But I have to. Because I am alone. And there's no one. And there's nothing.

It's like being forced to swallow your sobs. ("Can't cry, girl. Can't cry. Eat your tears, girl. They grow into strength.")

But they don't grow into strength. They grow into hot coals in your stomach. And the hot coals grow into monsters later on. Much later. When you need to cry, but you can't remember how to. And they sit there, in the pit of your stomach. Dry eyes. And you want to vomit.

Loneliness.
And all those false promises you ate as hope, they turned against you, too. You know those walls you built around you, built so high, so strong? They are no longer a fortress. They're a cage. And you can't climb over them. They're too big for you.

You want someone to come to help you. You want to let someone into your cage. But they can't get to you, can't get over the walls you created. They can only look helplessly into your eyes. They're too dark, aren't they? Too deep.

I'm sorry.
I would vomit if I could. But the vomit's a part of me now.



King of the broken people, won't You come and rescue Your children?