Waiting On The End

"I'm somewhere outside my life, babe/ I keep scratching but somehow I can't get in." - Sedated, Hozier

I’m dodging calls left and right,

Waiting for someone to bring me back to life.

Anxiety washing over me,

Constantly. 

A child in a haunted house,

With no way out.

Is it the end yet? 

Being everyone else’s sunshine, 

Is wearing and tearing something, 

Deep inside. 

I may seem as though I could care less, 

But the truth is I’m restless.

Is it the end yet?

 

I can’t see outside myself, 

I need someone’s help.

Poetic thoughts run around my head,

That muddle reality and fiction and heighten my existential dread.

Is it the end yet? 

And my skeleton and skin,

Are stretched thin,

And are withering within.

Is it the end yet?

 

I have nicks in my armour so deep, 

That there are purple and blue bruises underneath.

Is it the end yet? 

Am I forever bound to drink alone in my den?

Is it the end yet?

Reviews

[willweb]

Often it is hard and definitely a weight to deal with life in general these days. To try to be all things for all people can get to be a bit much or to that one thing for a certain someone can be tiring at times. I know, stress is out of control anymore, it seems like one half of the world hates the other half of the world. Sometimes it can all be a bit much. But, there is always the weekend. : )
I could feel the weariness of your words my friend. A very effective write indeed.

[Bhuyanshi Talukdar]

Ending with a question about whether it's the end, perhaps reflecting a sense of hopelessness or uncertainty.