An Uphill Journey

An anxious wait before
an uphill journey,
I carried my worries with me.
I wouldn’t let go, I couldn’t let go
as my congested mind and I tumbled.
I ask why, they don’t know.

They say I carry my baggage with me
as if by choice.

An anxious wait before
meeting a new friend,
or more than a friend;
they said “you did it again; a clean shot, dead centre, same spot,
a hole in your foot, and a hole in his heart.”
If only I knew how fast I’d cut ties.
I think I cared, but I’d hate to remember.

They say I brought the scissors with me;
as if I could help it.

Fearful, I am my hearts defender.
It seems when I need me the most
I panic, crippled and trigger happy — 
my reflection — forever my adversary
as I collapse under the weight of myself.

iStock: Fotozick[image error]

An Uphill Journey was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.