If I Cut The Rope... Poem by Andrus Cassian

Fatal…why is this feeling so fatal…final…
I thought, believed this one would be different
How foolish I was, deceived; I let in a repeat of my own history
A double dip of poison I could not help but indulge in
The side effects, I never minded; just enjoyed having a presence seem lovingly beside me
Only thought to complain my strife when no one was around to hear it
Like a muffled scream
I would receive tired advice to turn my growing demise into a strong resurrection
But they’re words never reached my ears
The angel wings never sprouted; I would learn to fly on my own or fall to my doom
The product of denial
The message to restart, revert beckons but it’s not as easy as it seems
I’m an enraged, caged animal inside my own head
My heart has been set on fire from a week of hindering torment
Torment, competition, failure…loser, so bitter to admit….
The loser in all of this…I just feel like the loser…
I’ve never been the one to obey anxiety, stress
I’ve bowed to anger before but not like this
I’ve never been so angry, so hateful, and destructive
I’m so close to ripping out my beating heart so I won’t feel anymore
I’m so close to ripping off my ears so her voice can’t find a home
I’m so close to tearing my eyes out to avoid the coming truth
(Sigh) after everything I’ve done
(Sigh) willing to fight, willing to be the spark in her life, willing to be the reason why she smiles
I’ve lost her completely, my reward for my troubles
What is it, my fatal attraction to her?
If I cut the cord…will I rise from the ashes like a phoenix?
If I cut the rope…would it be an uncommon suicide?
If I just walk away…will I look back and wish to stay?
If I just walk away…how would I feel tomorrow?
I don’t want to be feeling this; I’ve always hated feeling this
She’s the disease I haven’t found the panacea for
The death of a blossoming butterfly decorated in a dimming blue light
The white hue taking control of my coursing veins, causing my blood to run cold
I gave her angel wings as a gift
To my dismay, she ripped them off to have someone else re-stitch them in front of me
I am an enraged tiger in a small, confined cage, roaring to get out
And claw out the eyes of the forces that put me here
But I’m also a little boy, only eight years old
Holding a favorite broken toy I’ve had since I was born
And the tears come from deep inside the heart, swelling up lightly
To where I cry softly, sobbing softly so no one can hear me
Do I believe everyone when they call it love on my part?
I don’t know…it may be…it could have been
But what does it matter, the love I felt died long ago…
…when she cut me at the knees…bringing me down to size…
…kissing me one last time…giving me one small hope…
…only to see the hope in my eyes vanish as she dashed them…
…as she slapped me and ran away with another, burying my world forever in my own blood…
…how am I to stand again…how am I to breathe again…if I can’t…I can’t cut the rope…