Rejection

There is something inside me
that encourages,
to curl into this ball of misery, of pain
wrapped in a rotting wet blanket of defeat
would deteriorate my bones, my soul.
Pull me deeper,
‘til the stench of it sours the room
so that even I cannot stand to be alone with me.

Locking that part of me in the basement to fester,
I step away, to get some air
feel the healing sun on my face.
I am tempted to set the place a torch
with my rotting self chained in the basement.
Nothing good can come of setting me free
to mope about
infecting others with my despair.
But even I cannot do that to myself.

Unlocking the door and releasing the chains
I pull myself up from the filth
I have been wallowing in.
I shove a cup of coffee into my hand
set myself on the sofa with paper and pen
and begin again.
I am better than this.

I am this.

No words you can say
will tear me down
so low
that I can’t get up again.

I have something
you just haven’t seen it yet.

© Michele Markley 2008