Or so she says:

She hides it well
The pain that is
Or so she thinks
The cure, well out of reach
Suffering, bordering on martyrdom
Engrained and part of her DNA
All washed up mentally
The struggle, it’s real
And lost at sea
Self-criticism a way of life
Self-deprivation now a habit
Addicted to it
A survival mechanism
The safe space nonexistent
Angry at everything
And everybody
What a crazy way to save the world
Everything externalised
Self-reflection now a myth
The soul hidden deep within
Tucked away and well out of reach
Deliberately so
Walls of concrete and steel
Surround her heart
For fear of loss again
So sad
A heart so pure
All locked up and without a key
Dreams and fantasies
A trick of the mind
Her Gameplay, gambling with love
No short cuts
And all out of chips
Help now a swear word
The Ego’s not allowing that
Self-reliance she needs no one
Hail Mary, so full of grace
The fruit of thy womb, off bounds
A handmaiden all dressed up in pink
What a disguise
Is the cure not in the disease
God knows I tried
The intent was real
But to no avail
I know not how to Love
Or so she says

©the Dyslexic Poet™🎩
“your Sacred Clown”

Original words and thoughts penned of heart & mind of:
©Warren Mace, A.k.a ©the Dyslexic Poet™
© All Rights Reserved