The Choice

The voice in my head tells me a dozen dramatic stories about famous downfalls,

And I feel like I am standing on the edge as I am not picking up your calls.

The papers are going to say that I risked it all just to gain some independence,

And sharp tongues are going to ironize about my failed ascendance.

No, I do not have it in my heart to listen as they protect my abuser.

My shoulders have been too strong for years, I will not accept their amusement.

Still, every time he calls a piece of my mind feels like I am making it complicated,

A piece of my consciousness tells me that all my stories were fabricated.

Every second I wait, the edge comes closer, and the dark abyss becomes bigger,

And even though I know that I am saving myself, I still feel like a sinner.

I even consider just falling down and letting them walk over my reputation.

They would eat it up like the sweetest dessert, laughing at my humiliation.

The phone keeps ringing, and my skull keeps fighting the urge to continue the loop,

And my every cell remembers how you stole my joy, how you stole my youth.

The voice in my head tells me a hundred stories about people who never made it out…

I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling until peace dissolves the dark clouds.

-Jackie