The eyes of failure

This is what's feeding my soul,

This never ending hole.

This is my sin, my drug, my creed

this is what feeds my longing need

To be full of spite, and every night

I pray to God to smite 

my pathetic life.

To meet my demons in a darker place

To see what I've become, to end life's race

To be asleep for eternity while more endure

life's constant struggle, pain, and fears.

Torture ensues as my life flees my chest

And I'll leave this burden upon the rest

of my children, my friends, the ones who remain

To see their lives all become the same.

Now upon your shoulders, upon your heart

there is a burning pain to be sought, at price, be bought

For life is not, just something wrought 

and upon this earth, to be forgot

But a gift you see! Must see! And believe!

For life is never given again to you or me

once we've liven, and we've given all there is to be given

We see who we were, our name, and our legend

And what damned man would want to look back,

and see that he, so valiantly trying, still became me?

Reviews

[Patrick Gerlits]

I've written dozens of poems with a tone this despairing. I understand the depression behind the words all too well and I know that what the author has written here is absolutely real.


"And what damned man would want to look back,
and see that he, so valiantly trying, still became me?"

Even though we watch the self-destruction of many before and after us we never learn and the cycle repeats.

I like the finality of it all, never changing; inescapable.