Why?

Convoluted like a switchboard,                  ticking time bombs.
How is it that, we all in some way,          harbour demons we insist on calling friends? Detructive thought processes        we refuse to get rid of.                                    Is it that,                                                          we’ve allowed our hearts to stay broken because a whole heart is at risk of being broken again?

We rejoice in our misery.                        Accepting that that is all life has to offer.
Chasing away every good thing,                  for fear that we don’t deserve it. For fear that our jagged edges, will somehow, pierce their heart of flesh.
For fear, that all good things must come to an end,
so why let it begin?
Forgetting that healing is possible, and that we can be made whole, all while keeping our identity in tact.

by Shaquan Richards