Cracking

I am fearful
That I may crack open,
Bleeding pure white light
Onto the ground.

It seeps into the soil, and
Onlookers gasp in horror,
“What a tragedy! What a waste!”
It is true.

The thought to kill myself
Has bubbled up a few times lately.
Less as a request, More as an option.
Progress.

I often think of meaning,
How it cannot be put into words.
My whole life, in pursuit of
The Impossible.

My devastation is most holy.
All other suffering is mindless.
Cloaked in misery, I try it on.
Play dress-up.

I’ve never been able to take it on and off before.
Interesting.