String Cycles

A poem, in response to Sadie Seroxcat’s September prompt. Thanks for all of your work.

Image by Kier In Sight, via Unsplash.

The day that I was born
You handed me a string
I clasped to it closely
Unaware of what it could bring.

I handed you those tissues
When your eyes leaked black tar.
I try to heal in solitude
But I don’t get very far.

Therapy five times by now
It can’t apply a plaster
A tangled knot within my throat
Un-doable disasters.

Nature cannot heal me
Prayers cannot heal me
Love can’t seem to heal me
But still, my fears, they heel me.

Environmental illnesses
Have nothing on this.
Another year I prayed to be saved
Another year that my pain has worsened.

Impossible standards I must achieve,
A sense of hope I can’t believe,
It’s all the same
That shame and blame,