It never ends

A Poem by Kris Jansen

Do you know what it's like to suffer through depression?
To replay death in a therapist session?
Some may say that it's just a state,
One that comes and goes away.
But the melody of their thoughts are oh so wrong,
As we go through life in a suicide song.
It never ends..it never ends...

As hard as you try you can't survive.
Your body is slow, and it becomes easy to let go.
Reaching for a hand but no grasp is returned.
Nothing is helping. Nothing is earned.

Another day gone with no hope and no faith.
No matter what happens, you never feel safe.
Laying in bed hours on end,
Making yourself happy is even hard to pretend.
These tears from your face cannot be erased.
Not looking for company, just looking for space.
As hard as you try, it never ends..
I promise you, it never ends...

Falling asleep is more than hard.
Breaking a cup into tiny glass shards.
Feeling for one that is sharp and plain,
And finding a way to help ease this pain.
It's more than an addiction; making these cuts.
They're unable to mend, it never ends..
Believe me when I say that this never ends...

It becomes more difficult to wake yourself up,
When everything in life you know you've fucked up.
You cannot escape these problems you've made.
Trying to solve them with the swipe of a blade.

Attempting to get yourself out of bed,
And fix the troublesome life you've led.
Moving your eyes across the room,
But the darkness tells you to end it soon.
Blinking repeatedly but the color doesn't change.
This cruel black world is anything but strange.

It soon becomes normal, to live in this Hell.
The difference between joy and misery is hard to tell.
Once again you are flat on your bed,
Crying your eyes out but not making a sound.
Trying to scream but not a word is said,
While this invisible force is holding you down.

I can't even eat in this place you call home,
When I look in the mirror all I see is pure bone.
I'm dying in more ways than I ever thought possible.
Not physically, but emotionally too.
There's no one I could convince you that this is all true.

To everyone you live your life as a lie.
You can't tell the truth as hard as you try.
They will think that you are doing this just for attention.
That it can be taken away with a simple prevention.
But once again they can't understand, how this is something that never ends..
Prove to them that this never ends...

Is it right or is it wrong to live this way?
Or to believe that this is the price you pay?
The things you say and the actions you make,
Will catch up with you when your life is at stake.
Hospitals will soon be coming your way,
And your family will go to church and pray.
As much as they think that their words will get through,
They need to know that there's nothing they can do.

Life is a gift but it can always shift.
Your thoughts are impaired and you are always scared.
Scared to reveal the mistakes you've made.
Thinking of regrets throughout the day.
More and more thoughts come to mind,
Proving to yourself that you are not blind.
It never ends..
You officially know that this never ends...

Somehow you find the energy to move.
Trying to forget these unforgiving wounds.
But when you see your face in the mirror,
The demon inside you is more than clear.
Your skin is pale and your complexion is stale.

The weak sound of those quiet sighs,
Are worthless as the blood drips from your eyes.
Your being causes the mirror to crack,
While your spine is escaping from your back.
Nothing can save you now.

So shut my blinds and close my door.
Let me cry on this cold wooden floor.
My arms are wrapped around me knees,
And my face is hidden from all to see.
I don't want to eat, I don't want to sleep.
The hand of life is far out of reach.

Surrounded by darkness and being alone,
Is refreshing from the world I had once known.
I feel like I've died, but sadly I'm alive.

I cut my wrists until I bleed,
To leave a note for all to read.
Dipping my fingers in these puddles of red,
And writing the words that you have not said.
I'm crying once more as I draw on the floor:

"I'm sorry"

Not able to move, my body is still.
Holding onto an empty bottle of pills.
All my happiness has been blown away.
It was for the best you must admit.
No need to be an acolyte, no need to pray.
The candle to my life is no longer lit.

© 2015 Kris Jansen

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Featured Review

misha

"The week sound of those quiet sighs,
Are worthless as the blood drips from your eyes.
Your being causes the mirror to crack,
While your spine is escaping from your back.
Nothing can save you now."

What a haunting and tragic piece. I am usually not one for such rhyming pieces but this was captivating. So sad and melancholic. Another great write!