The Walk Away — Phoenix Heart

“It starts with happiness,
but the end creeps up quickly. Annoyed,
mad at myself, disregarding my own worth.
Targeted by weakness,
left feeling worthless.”
Ever hear yourself walk away from your body?
The first sign of a pity party
has begun.
Howling to your own pack, seeking the emotional damages they left.
Your scar overwhelms your attempts to be more socially acceptable
during the simplest of occurrences.
Yeah, PTSD is forever a claimant,
and the claimant will always make a scene.
Ever hear yourself walk away from your body?
This is my skill: I retain wars with people, not for what they said or
did,
but for the doubt in my ambition I talk about,
for the lack of interest in who I am. Yet lust is your wandering eye.
It’s the doubt in my grace, a slap in the face, a circumstance
that makes me look at you with zero denial—
when someone hears that tone of judgment.
The powerful stigma of yourself is beyond my story’s pages;
I’m just not in the mood to battle myself.
I completed that milestone, thanks.