Like whiplash,
A spinal injury caused by a sudden jerking
Of the head, either forward or backward,
My heart is torn to pieces
By the trauma my head has endured.
My spine, the naturally weak, yet sturdy
Backbone of my body,
Allowing me to perform the routine,
Normal functions of a healthy,
Active human being,
Can become aching or even paralyzed –
In this case, by the fear
Of excruciating loneliness and emotional strain.
The deep-seeded need for love and affection
Gripping us so tightly shows
That we cannot get enough
Of this sweet nectar
Which God is waving in front of us;
A carrot on a stick to lead us
Toward someone’s selfish idea of a path forward.
One might call this whiplash,
This mental, physical, and emotional trauma,
A wake-up call and a call to act,
But these arms and legs must be surreally robotic,
And my heart remains a broken, frozen half-shell
Begging for the nectar,
The carrot on a stick –
The love which would fill my soul
With the caring and true feelings
From those who are supposed to care
And feel that love for me…
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