Permanently Broken

Paper skin,
Glass bones.
Fragile as a doll.
Listen to my heart;
tired mechanical mess.
Broken magnets,
and springs;
tired of working at all

Hard to tell if I
have been hurt
again,
or if I am just used
to the feeling
of pain.
Shards of glass
Run through
Every vein and vessel
If only my soul
Could speak for me
To describe it
Sweeping through
My body
Like electricity through
a circuit

They repair me again;
cover me
in false remedies,
covering symptoms,
with ‘magic’ pills.
It only numbs me
Temporarily.
This euphoric
lack of sensation
subsides,
awaking me
to my nightmare
again.

Conventional cures
just will not do.
I wonder if they
gave up too?
Therapy works,
but only if you believe
the lies they tell you.
Meditation is for
the thoughtless mind;
for those who feel
nothing at all.
Conventional healing
is for those who do not
know my kind of hell.
Yet still they insist
I try there ‘cures’ again…
No wonder I’m not feeling well.