Bruised but Breathing

by Ruqaiyah Kapasi

It all starts well -

I’m young, small, without a care to dwell. 

But then I grow, 

wondering how much more I can bear.

Image credit: Dav Hovhannisyan on Unsplash

I feel misery creep in, 

questioning my worth, my purpose within. 

There are more blues than hues, 

and my mind is left battered, bruised. 

Hope slips away;

I ask myself daily: when is the end? 

I feel dead inside.

I whisper: ‘Keep going, there’s no point in moaning.’

So, I rose, stood tall, 

telling myself, I can do it all.

But life had other plans. 

A blow struck harder than I could stand - 

a storm of sorrow: relentless and cruel. 

My heart felt heavy, 

as though arrows pierced through -

tearing it, stitching it, and again ripping it apart,

a fireball searing every part. 

The pain lingered, unending.

I began to relapse, 

drowning in a sea of blood and misery. 

Each night, silent tears fell, 

a flood pulling me deeper, 

unintentionally isolating myself further. 

I became my worst enemy, 

and wondered, 

‘What if I wasn’t just visiting the cemetery, but belonged there, permanently?’

Even in this darkness, 

I glimpsed life’s raw nature. 

Loneliness wasn’t unbearable -

as long as I had a knife, 

I figured I could survive, 

and I was right.

***

Ruqaiyah Kapasi

Ruqaiyah Kapasi is a practicing poet living in the UK. Her work largely focuses on emotionally heavy topics such as abuse, depression and mental health, but also other topics such as the world's state, identity, loss and misogyny.