Sarah

Days pass and I question my

Sanity.

Is it a nightmare that I just can’t

Escape from?

Cry, let it all out they say.

My grief is a bottled rocket

Which will cause a massive explosion

If it is freed.

Don’t waste your breath with

Your “advice”

Your “thoughts”

Your “ideas”

They are merely a sliver of light

In a completely black, barren world.

If my rocket launches

My rage will know no boundaries.

It will bubble, smoke, and expel

Toxic chemicals, words, and betrayals.

I will have zero control over myself

What’s left of my loved ones

Will be blackened shreds, ashes.

Don’t ask, call, beg, or plead with me to

“Get over it!”

Talk it out, heal.

In the event that I am launched

It will be the demise of all that I am.

Although now,

Was.