The Pinocchio Wound

Tired of starting over, and over— I’ve felt like a leftover.
Playing around with meditation, I’ve truly been wondering—
How many more attempts will it take until I finally learn to keep my shit together?
To stop engaging with my fears, to once and for all, transmute my demons.
I’ve been opening up my heart; now all I pray for is wisdom.
Wisdom to keep me sane and my two tiny blessings intact,
For I can’t afford to lose them to the chaos that plagues my mind.
I lost all of my shame one day while remembering their births,
When twice I pooped myself, and I guess I lived through it.
And I don’t wish to preach, for I don’t claim to know it all.
Though I still pretend I do, at least from time to time.
Beneath a cunning facade, I still leash and tame my beast.
I keep telling myself tomorrow all will be sunshine and bliss.
But my nervous system feels endangered, even with half my power back.
I have had to relearn to eat, to sleep, and to make up for all I’ve lacked.
Even when it makes me uncomfortable, I still try to hold space,
For I ever wonder who out there might be inspired to do the same.
And although wishing for a savior has never truly been my thing,
I’ve become my own Prince Charming, and that’s what keeps me going.
I’ve inhabited rock-bottom, and forgotten how to breathe.
Some days all I inhale is smoke, and scarce feels the oxygen.
I guess the lies I’ve told myself have really taken their toll.
My memory is still drained, running in survival mode.
You can see it on my face; I call it the face of trauma-bond.
I wonder if I will ever make it; if a diploma will return my worth.
For I don’t want to work in corporate; I want an empire of my own.
Disowned, I’ve betrayed my body— the truest home I’ve ever known.
To teach my children authenticity, the one thing I have lacked…
I wonder if the path I walk is a worthy one at all,
And I wonder if all of my wonders will ever materialize.