Pain

Not all things are certain.

Self-flagellation can become an irritation,
When you're lying in your bed hoping you never awaken,
Cause I don't wanna rise or shine or smell the f*****g bacon;
I just wanna sleep my life away, with breaks for masturbation,
But I'm forced to wake up every day and put my bravest face on
So that no one f*****g pesters me about my situation,
I'm a headcase; the best waste of time you've seen,
So if you wanna worry, do it silently,
I gave up on everything I tried to be
So I could kill NPCs on a TV screen,
And blaze up the weed til my piss turns green,
While surrounded by things that I choose not to see cause I'm scared and obsessed with inferiority,
There was a light in the darkness, I truly believed,
Turns out I was looking at a hole in me,
Cause this darkness is heartless and cold and obscene,
But my reason to be is the light inbetween.

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

This is a powerful poem and at least for me conjures up a battle against depression. It's a foul malady to fight against because through it all you are never more self aware of your situation. And powerless to do anything about it. It has the ability to take away everything that defines you before ultimately destroying you. It's like the slow sinking into quicksand, only not so quick as an impending death. Having known this disease of the mind on a personal level I recognize its symptoms all to familiar. Thank you for sharing your art and poetic words with us.