I think I see hope
when the cold inside of me escaped
the ground beneath my bare feet froze
I kept tripping and slipping on its mirror of a surface
as time passed the fall didn't make me stronger or tougher
at first it made me cry
down on my knees with open bruises and cuts and burns
but then it made me hard
it made me indifferent
it made me numb
I'd rather be spiteful
because at least then I'd care enough to be spiteful
at least then I'd feel human
the ice is getting thicker
my skin is turning blue
but I hadn't really noticed
because this tedious snapping of branch after branch
has grown on me like moss
this fall has become parasitic and ugly
it wants me to fail
it wants docility
I'd be lying if I said I didn't want that too
the drop, in its agonizing wait for the hit is taking longer
the impact is jarring my bones with growing intensity
like the moving shadows that loomed over my bed as a child
threatening to take me away from the comfort of what little I knew
there's a part of me
hidden fearfully and defiantly from my black nightshade of indifference
making my heavy lifeless body rise and rise again
trying to be the phoenix
it wants more bruises and cuts and burns
because maybe if I fall enough times
the ice will break
the Richter scale will read a magnitude of destruction and freedom
from the bloody mess on the ice
I think I see a crack, fighting to emerge
stubbornly going against a force that is bigger in size
but so much smaller in heart
I think I see hope
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