Jungle

Common misconception: Caring is pain.

Forget ignorance and learn the hideous truth:

The pain merely begins with caring.

A single seed in a gardening pot

It does not begin to grow until simple caring becomes caring too much

And it blossoms when you realize you’re the only one who cares at all

By now you see this pain is not a rose, it is a weed

But it is much too late to stop.

Try as you might to hate it, still there is a deep serenity—a numbness—that comes with looking at the rotten weed.

And you tend for it as it grows; your senses are cut off

Look at the sycamore of burns

Look at the bush of thrashing limbs

Look at the moist tears that wet the ground

Just don’t look at the dark clouds filled with drops of blood.

The unforgiving liquid drips from the sky with painful deliberation.

When it reaches your height, the blood fills your eyes.

You can no longer see yourself slipping away.

This is when the devils move in

Snakes slither up and down branches of past nightmares, old anxiety, bitter lies

Spider bites release the toxins you had kept prison inside for so long

And an overwhelming fatigue spreads through your body

Take a step back now, sit down, admire your work

Look at the jungle you have created

The hideous beauty is impossible to take your eyes off of.

The pain does not end here; this is simply where it reaches its peak.

Try to run from the jungle, you will only trip over the weeds

Try to climb out of the jungle, the snakes will bite your ankles and pull you back down.

Try to call for help and remember

No one even sees you are gone

No one else cares

The true pain comes when you realize you are imprisoned forever.

So you bend over and release your emotions into the toilet

Flush it away forever, then sit and think about what you’ve done

Caution: Standing up too soon can lead to a fleeting moment of dizziness that may lead to sudden clarity.

So you don’t stand up at all.