What’s it like, I wonder, to be so bitter and untouchable
That you ultimately become emotionally
Detached to chaotic and painful circumstance?
Is there freedom in that painless apathy?
Do you finally take all you can,
Store it up and wait for it to corrode,
Burning your insides till they harden into some
Unrecognizable mess; so bitter and broken that
Feeling is impossible,
The disconnect between life and heart non-operable?
Is it there that you finally find peace from this constant storm?
Peace in arms that can not touch real love,
Peace in a stone heart that will never crack,
Never be hurt again, peace in the stone wall, in the fortress.
How do you know, I wonder,
If you’re almost there,
Almost in that wonderful dead place,
Almost free?