Analysis of Baggage

One foot out the door.
More out than in.
How much longer can this take?
We all have baggage, but none weigh as heavy as the boulders placed in mine.

I give.
Give and I give.
Hardly do I ever take, for there are others more deserving.
My only gift received is a heart torn asunder.

I am a heretic, a lunatic.
A self-deprecating fool for one’s own affection.
Insanity is my very essence.
Repetition at its finest.
We all carry our baggage, some are a burden much too self-destructive.

I hide behind a mirroring mask.
Yet this mask has been set adrift and doused in century old fires.
All one sees from afar is a concrete wall with tiny scratches on its surface.

I gave, gave and I gave.
Through every drought, through every storm.
Love isn’t a reflection of who I am, but it could’ve strengthened the tide forming in this core of longing.

There is nothing left of me, I am drained beyond comprehension.
Only taking hits where I never knew they could wander.
There are no echoes in this silence and it is deafening.
My ears are ringing and my eyes are strained from gaslight.

I am an enigma, unhinged.
I have this baggage full of wounded kindness; yet the cause of it has gone astray.
I gave all that I could give.
This weight I carry will follow me into an early grave.

How much longer can this take?
One foot out the door,
More out than in.
I am still tethered to the baggage in this place.