Angela Elias Poet Rhyme

Broken

The stars are cold, the room is still,
but sleep is miles and miles away.
I’m haunted by the whiteboard lines
and things I’ll have to teach today.
My stomach turns at the thought of food,
a hollow space where strength should be;
I’m drowning in a crowded room,
where no one’s looking out for me.

I move my lips, I play the part,
the marker squeaks, the children stare.
But I am raw, a jagged edge,
just gasping for a bit of air.
The sentences are broken glass,
they cut my tongue and will not form;
I’m failing at the very task
of standing upright in the storm.

And oh, my heart, it is a weight,
a visceral ache for what is gone.
It misses every dream I nursed
before the light of every dawn.
There is a humility in this break,
in being stripped so completely bare,
feeling like a failure’s ghost
in a world that doesn’t care.

I walk through tides of busy lives,
a lonely pulse in a sea of grey.
I cannot find the words to speak,
the "me" I was, has slipped away.
I’m trying to bridge the hollow gap,
to reach across the dark and see
if I can find a single path,
that leads me back to being me.

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