Clareprunellpoetry

My brain is a weapon, forged in the dark, Built by the violence that left its first mark. You call it an illness, a broken design, But this heavy armour was what kept me alive. When the world was too cruel for a child to endure, My mind pulled the trigger to make me secure. It turned down the volume, it blew out the light, And left me completely detached from the fright. It made my emotions so intense and so strong, Alerting in seconds if something goes wrong. That empty black void and the ghost in the glass, Are the walls that it built so the horror could pass. It dialled up the panic and sharpened the sight, Forcing my thinking to black or to white. No time for the grey when you’re targeted prey, You hit them, you run, or you push them away. I mimic your movements, I mirror your style, Camouflaged, helping me fit in for a while. I’ll hate you and leave you before you can go, A preemptive strike to avoid the last blow. And when the pain builds and there’s no where to run, The rage is a motor that keeps me undone. A factory setting of fire and of spite, To keep me from looking too soft in the light. I take up a tool and I cut just to feel, Punishing flesh to remind me I’m real. Turning the violence inward to hide, Bleeding the pressure out safe deep inside. It’s an endless routine and a heavy defence, A brutal machine that makes perfect sense. It isn’t a defect, it isn’t a flaw- It’s a clever brain built for a lifelong war.