Buried

Sometimes you dig yourself into a hole,

six feet under,

And you love laying in it,

In the dirt of it,

Covered in the mud of it.

Sometimes you dig yourself into a hole,

Seven feet in now,

and you hate yourself for it.

Hate how deep in it you are

Hate how much soul it will take to get out.

Sometimes you dig yourself into a hole

And everyone around you is repulsed.

Your face buried in the filth of your mind,

And the roots of fear sprawling under your eyes.

Sometimes you dig yourself into a hole

and hate everyone around you for it

How dare they hate you for your self-hatred.

How dare you assume they hate you.

How dare you let your dirt convince you, you aren’t loved.

Sometimes you dig yourself into a hole

and think there’s no way out.

You dig and dig into your ground

But you forget

“The way out is never through yourself.”

Your eyes so full of earth

You can’t even see the light outside.

Your head pressed against the bed rock so hard

You can even hear the search parties

Saying your name.

Come back

come back

Climb out

climb out

Sometimes you dig yourself into a hole

But it isn’t an impossible situation.

Not a permanent place of residence.

You dug yourself into a hole

You think you’re stuck

you’re stuck

You’re stuck

But you’ll be found

You’ll be found

You’ll be found