I’m Not My Sob Story

we all feel pain—

most say they feel it worse.

it’s delusional,

this need to make pain singular.

perhaps,

i think it’s mercy:

your sob story is not what defiles you—

nor the knives you’ve lost inside you.

it’s funny how we say no one cares,

but maybe

they care too much

to sit and watch you cry.

feelings are universal.

i may not relate to your details,

but i know

a place too familiar.

pain is phenomenal.

it never ceases to exist.

we’ve just grown too comfortable—

and let it define us.

don’t write to be sad.

don’t write to be another sob story

someone bats their eyes at.

don’t crucify what little they have left.

they could be terminal.

there is a way,

one of many art forms:

expression—

that does not call for glorification

or definition.

anyone can write

my mother died

in a car crash-

as if they weren’t

assigned

designated driver.

anyone can write

their rehab record

and stand like

an award.

few

can hold the scalpel

and come out of it

whole.