ABC's of Moving On

I started writing and accidentally used a lot of A's in the first part and B's in the second, and just went with it after that. I stopped before hitting Z because I felt it would start feeling forced.

Some days I think I am going mad,
I am overwhelmed by the evil and the dreary in the world.
I find the good appalling in its asinine attempts at alleviating the pain of the daily grind.

There is no safe place,
Everywhere you go, everything you do will eventually sour,
Leaving nothing but a bastardized, bandaged, brittle vision of your brightly beaming hopes and dreams.

I lay here, staring at the ceiling,
Counting the misfit bumps and cracks,
The cobwebs in the corners that collect like memories we want to clear, but just won't go away.

My clothes hang to my body, pulling and yanking against the sheets with every movement.
I revel in it,
In the discomfort that I cause myself.
I wrap myself up in self loathing and I dress in dapper drapery devised of disappointment.

I hate myself,
And that self hatred only serves to proliferate itself as I am locked into my depression by it.
The endless entries in my emotional emptiness enrage me.

It is a cycle that I can not break,
I fall back into it, and have nothing to hold; nothing to save me from the long fall back to the death I long for,
I wish I could find the forgiveness to free my frozen feelings and raise myself from the folly of fervent frustration.

I search for it, even when I know I cannot find it,
A never ending pilgrimage in search for peace that will one day cleanse the filth from my soul.
I grow gaunt and greet great spans of time as I gauge the gaping grave before me.

Even as I stand above it, I try to take steps away,
Running from the desire that I clung to for so long, I am left confused.
What do I truly want?
For heaven holds no hardships, but hanging by my hand is heinous.
The harbinger of hell has high hopes I will hear no holy harmony. Have no last hinging epiphany.

But, even as I prepare for my fall,
The blade will not move, the rope will not tie, and my fingers become numb and useless.
I see my infinite impossibilities free of the ire that immobilizes me with idle infuriation. Ironically it invokes more of the same.

As I stand trembling, I begin to weep,
The tools of my demise clatter to the floor, and I curl up on the soft carpeting of my bedroom alongside them.
Justice juts its chin in juvenile jeering, joyously jamming righteous jest and noble juxtaposition.

It is now that I know I can never leave this life,
It has taken a night of emotional hell, and multiple attempts on my own life, but in all of their failures, I find purpose.
The key to keeping kindness in your heart is to kill the king of your own discord.

It is here that I may stand.
It is now that I can consciously begin to alter my own self-perceptions and become a better person. I know I have a problem, now to fix it.
But lamenting lures the lost and lazy to leave the path to lasting life and love.

There are slips on the path to recovery,
But once you build steam there is nothing that can not be accomplished with a strong will and a little bit of support.
My mediocre attempts to manifest a mutiny against myself must magnify multiple times or meet most certain maleficence.

I find myself smiling more,
Greeting people I do not know with a warm heart and a kind word to allow their day's passing to go that much smoother.
Needing no new crutch to negate my negativity never seemed within reach until now.

I even met a woman,
A sweet girl who stands by my side in the times of sorrow and weakness and keeps my resolve in check.
She opened my oddly obscured heart to the opportunity of overwhelming optimism and I owe her everything.

I think that I will marry her,
Already I see her strolling the aisle toward me, her raven hair neatly arranged and her dress dancing along the flower petals.
Pretty is probably pitiful in potency aside the prose of praise I perform within my prattling mind.

She is the epitome of everything I want,
Perfection has never reared its head in this world until this very moment, and my heart races in my chest with each step she takes.
The quintessential queen of beauty without question. I quietly quarrel with myself to stand still.

When all is said and done, there is cheering,
Our lips meet at last, and the rice is thrown as we walk toward the beginning of a new life together.
Reality rarely reaches such remarkably radical reformations as I have readily received and revel in.

And as I rock back and forward with her hand in mine,
I speak of my hardships to my children and grandchildren. I speak of the power of love and of the will to live. I speak of perseverance and of hope.
Sorrow serves to steal strength, but such struggles may be surpassed with striking simplicity and someone to see you safely to the other side.

To all of my fellow men and women,
Believe that it will become better, and you will surely live the difference that your heart desires. Will yourself to fight on, and you will gain more than you ever dreamed.
To all the trapped and tarnished, tell the turmoil to turn its treachery to the wind. Take your head and hold it high. All my love. Truly.