Breathe out when you must

Eventually it will die down, as my breath will,

And fade away, perhaps leaving a scar or two,

To show for all the effort it took in deserving.

Pain is a reward, an anchor to a nightmarish, but sweet dream.
So does the memory grow weak as I wish it would,

Or does it still eat into my conscience,

Demanding the things I never could give,

Tearing apart the few good things I must have done.
For a man is only as strong as his thoughts are,

And my thoughts are strong, though I yearn to be weak;

I long for sleep, the soundness of a few hours

In which I would not be dragged, reviled, whipped by my own thoughts.
I travel on roads and hold hands in my sleep,

I talk and I smile not knowing that I dream,

I float back and forth and feel the gut wrenching scream

That I always held back and which now is dissolved within.
Looking back I see another world and another person,

Who though looks familiar is totally unknown to me,

Metamorphosis of the thought process is real,

And so is the agony that is a present from the past.