GET A GRIP

My guard was torn down
by an inner war
an outer battle
terrorized by
weapons of mass anguish
pierced by sticks and stones
and slipping into gaping holes
left by those I thought made me whole.
Tears have left me numb
in a solemn state
compulsive
perhaps obsessive
to the point of pushing you away.
I've claimed to have dismembered you
and buried you into my subconscious state
and in another man's arms
tried to slip away
but consumed
in your ink stains
I've stayed.
Hoping for that answer
that'll take my goddamn questions away.
My own cynicism
has driven me insane
an inconsolable echo
of your voice
inside my head.
Muting me
and breaking me
yet graciously.

-M. Peña