Here

Here.
Hold this.
It is heavy.
The weight has my chest concaving.
Silent screams, mind weary, even with sleep.
I can’t breathe; shoulders are aching.
Here. Take this. I don’t want it.
All of the sadness, dreary days, a life of quiet madness, restless ways, constant pain, almost forgot what it was like to play in the rain.
To numb to cry, care, or whine.
Here, I am all done with the demons within.
I no longer need this pounding heart or these racing thoughts.
All of these things are wasting my time.
The last thing on my mind is whom I offend.
The past can keep its secrets.
There is no reason to repeat them.