I am the gong


As time has passed I’ve gotten better at going longer periods of time 

Between falling apart but the incisions that slice me are sharper and more precise

Much like the roots of a tree compared to its heights 

I don’t carry it well, I just ignore it better

I feel like a banging gong, 

shouting the same obnoxious song 

-but I can’t 



And I will never let go. 

My birthday is coming and I just can’t accept any love

I’m debating between scary things and I know they’re all wrong 

I’m just so black inside with pent up pain 

‘Happy birthday Squishy!’ is what I can’t stop playing in my head 

I don’t know what the next step is 

I’ve been stuck here for so long …

I don’t know which direction to move to 

I don’t even know how to live from here on

And it’s constant yet evanescent

Black muck drips off me in large dollops onto the floor 

The unknown and confusion tangible splatter in my hand


I’m still blind as ever 

I’m just waiting for the healing

I’m leaking from my heart 

I just want my father back


About Brunch At Tiffs

I love to write, read, crochet, thrift and reinvent. My hands make delicious concoctions and I love a good spur of the moment recipe. My life goal is to be a missionary for Japan. Oh yea and, Bunnies!...that is all...

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