Curbed By The Shock of Heartbreak
To grow, to learn, to excel
Some days he fights for every breath taken,
Bleeding the pain forever feeling lost and forsaken,
Tears boil from his broken heart, flooding the way,
Crippling his hours until they turn into a wasted day.
**
He lost his smile on the boondocks deck,
The day he was tossed aside, “What the heck?”
Left standing in a puddle of shock, suddenly alone,
Discarded like trash, tossed and thrown.
**
His steps skip a beat as he wanders the street,
Nowhere to go, nowhere to call home; he follows his feet,
Silent in his cries of the raw heat and overwhelm,
Guided by the only thing left to him, his feelings at the helm.
**
He slips in the gutter of life’s deepest trench,
Lost and lonely, his body and heart in tears that drench,
No longer living, but just existing instead,
Wishing and hoping tomorrow he’d wake up dead.
**
Until — the sudden beat of strength running through his veins,
Beating the blues back and forcing him to take the reins,
Fake it until you make it, his new golden rule,
Realising life’s worth living, as he steps out of the cesspool.
**
With a smile plastered to his face, he struts his stuff,
Knowing he is at his current best, which is certainly enough,
He will live the life he deserves, the one filled with hope,
Pretending at first, if that’s what it takes to cope.
**
He is borne of a new confidence, a master of disguise,
Exuding an air of gratitude and seemingly wise,
With an open heart worthy of love and affection,
He wakes with the new dawn, sailing in a new direction.
**
I asked him how he was able to turned things around,
And he whispered in my ear, “My eyes were opened, I suddenly found
That I’m the master of my own destiny, my ultimate boss,
And with that I realised I had gained more than my heart rendering loss.”
**
From that realisation he moved forward, a step at a time,
Until he was no longer needing to fake it, his days now sublime,
As he grew in strength from a painful existence,
And now goes with the flow, offering no further resistance.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Colleen Millsteed and writers in Poets and other communities.
Paralysis
She was there. Like she always had been, as if she were created immediately following the big bang. Waiting for him. Her long brown hair twisted and danced wildly in the lack of gravity. She was hauntingly beautiful, but her face was a look of terror and desperation. She mouthed wordless shouts, Ron only could assume she was yelling by the way the veins bulged in her neck.
By Jordan Flynn2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
I've been practicing "fake it 'til you make it" for most of my life now. So when do we get to the making it part?
Awww, I'm soooo happy for him! Hey King, you dropped this: 👑