A free verse poem

Scars

Badges of Honor or A Reminder of Unshed Tears.

His fist connected to the wall! His knuckles split open. As if making an opening for the release, A release, indeed. For all the pent-up emotions. it’s time to let them go.

A wound, A physical one this time. An eternal engraving on his body, A wound, so deep, it runs to his soul, his mind. Strong enough to draw the blood, Strong enough to promise physical hurt. But shallow enough to not be his end. His misery is not over — -Yet.

Physical pain is a comfort, A known territory for him. It’s always better than the storm brewing inside his head. A balm for all the heartache. A sickening bliss settled on his soul, As his physical pain is the only way to deviate his mind. A deviation, indeed, From all the raging war of emotions.

He feels more at control, With each drop of blood leaving him. The blood pooling on the snow-white tiles, Marking, Leaving the evidence of his internal battle. A battle, indeed, With himself, with his black cloudy thoughts.

Open wounds are the sink, and he is draining his gloomy fog of emotions that is clouding his life. Tomorrow, he will wake up again. Awake and aware, Awake from his moments of weakness. Aware of the downward spikes of his life, threatening to slit not only his knuckles but his throat, heavy with the shackled cry, But he can’t let his tears go.

It’s easier to draw the blood than the water from his eyes. So he cries, Cry with the tear of blood. Cry with the open physical wounds. Tomorrow he will wake up again, With regret, a warning for himself, He will buckle-up himself again, Promise to fight a bit strongly, next time. Trust me, there will be next time.

A fight will come again, Against these unshed swarm of unknown demons. But for now? He will enjoy this pain. A small price to pay — To keep his pride intact. Because ultimately he can’t be weak, He can’t cry with water in his eyes.

Maybe tomorrow will bring a small lantern of hope, will brighten the long deserted road. But for now, He will rest in this agonizing peace. For now, He will enjoy the pleasure hidden in this pain.

Writer’s Note:

It’s not my intention to glorify self-harm.

Through this poem, I want to give a little insight into how bottling up your emotions shake the wall of your sanity and try to break free.

Most of the time than not, this freedom comes at the cost of physical pain that you inflict on yourself.

Anything to distract yourself from the flood of emotions, that’s drowning your mind.

I know that depression doesn’t see your gender, but men tend to inflict more self-harm than women because they struggle to let it go naturally and nothing but our portray of a “strong man” is at fault here.

But ultimately you can't bottle up your emotions forever, they need some release, in one form or another they find their release.

Let your emotion go in a natural way, it’s not a weakness to cry or to be vulnerable.

Let the others and yourself in before its too late.

Be happy :)

~Ayasha

I am playing with this idea for a long time but never got the courage to write it down on the paper until I read a powerful story

by Agnes Louis.

Thank you, Agnes, for being the push, I needed.

Thank you for shining and inspiring us.