Wounded Healer

Bullets of pain running a marathon through my chest racing wondering which is going to kill me first hitting against an invisible wall with blood filled bruises on my fists in my mind I'm thinking is this that bad or am I just throwing fits that's what life's objective is to make me feel less than life itself like a book buried on a dusty shelf unnoticed screaming to be read to be given a chance to live being read makes it feel alive the loneliness that it was punished with I can feel in my every being because I can relate trying my level best because I hate to feel hate I'm sure the feeling will die I will kill it off before it's late I'm a wounded healer I no longer want to feel this way, with time my wounds heal I pray..