Highest Valley, Lowest Peak
Let it be known that intentions hurt more than mistakes.
Demons, smiling at my pain, give me a metal stake.
I replicate their expressive faces, unknowingly creating permanent skin traces.
Razor sharp, my skin glides open;
With a dark carmine color, my body releases an ocean of blood.
Dusk falls, my drunk father staggers across the room, rapidly instigating my anger.
Provoking my trust, my fury is on the breech of danger.
His small nerves burst when I speak a single word;
He glares at me and retaliates with slurs.
My brother crying, from the room over, “why are you two always fighting?!”
Only argued speech boom the entire sighting—
Rushing to my enclosed room for supposed safety, which constricts the sound of my crying.
Slicing my arm to let frustration and anxiety escape; the blood streaming down my skin‒
Tears of frustration and the numbness drape‒ temporarily curing the pain I’m in.
Mother and Father looked at my sliced carmine arm, yet only cynical laughter was their genuine reaction.
Three days have passed, yet not a word spoken by my father.
Which raises the question, “is remaining silent considered to be proper?”
Never remain silent!
With silence, your mind shall be conquered by an undeserving tyrant.
Freedom of mind and bliss will no longer be transparent, but remain dormant.
The highest valley will never measure to the lowest peak.
Silenced words need to be heard; Let us listen your unspoken words,
Because you deserve to have true internal peace.
Never be bound by your mind’s gravitational pull, pain and suffering will eventually lead to something beautiful.