Self Contained Explosions

My body is a bomb shelter. Containing explosions that save the world and erode my insides until they are unrecognizable. Throw me your hand grenades without fear. For I will save you. My walls are thick and fortified, built from self denial and undying optimism. They can’t be crumbled from any threat on the outside. While the interior slowly deteriorates with the murky residue of supposed martyrdom trickling through misplaced hope.

I thought it made me stronger, taking on everyone’s tragedies like all they needed was the hero I could be. Give me your pain. Give me your struggle. Give me your hatred and let me shoulder it alone. Save yourself and run while I hold onto what I can. It’s in my hands. They are capable and willing. Unaware their strength is dwindling with each death grip. My muscles weaken under the pressure so I hold tighter. Pile on your pain so I can distract myself from my own.

I watch for the smiles and flashes of gratitude with every gun shot bang, but all I see are the backs of heads. Because I did my job. I took the hurt so they could walk away. Maybe I should have asked them to wait.

If only I could let go, maybe it would be myself I could save.