Storms

How can I explain this, this slipping
sliding into an old uncomfortable groove
of drowning out the rage, dull ache
slicing through the constructs
built in feeble defence, walls tumbling
ruination, piles of rubble at my feet

I build these structures each time
in forlorn optimistic hope of longevity
that they will hold against the onslaught
withstand the battering at memories door
splintering cracks appearing each time
suffocating images come flooding in

Can I take your hand, will you stand
with me here in the face of such storms
facing this all alone gets so wearing
and yet how to ask for such help
how to admit to my desperate need
can I, dare I, risk rejection yet again

This really is after all my fight alone
I can't build defences based on your help
not that I doubt your honourable intentions
but reliance holds no lasting solution
I must find a path through the morass
a lasting solution, some finality at last

Pointless wishing what might have been
a past free of horrors, to have it unseen
undoing the undo-able is beyond my doing
a way of living with the fallout must be found
that doesn't involve a trip through dependence
through to further stages of addiction

No answer then at the bottom of a bottle
no way to cope with the everyday stuff
I wish ... oh god how I wish, but why
what is the point. I am who I am right now
a survivor, I fought the monster and lost
it seems I'm still losing this battle today.