The Hermit In Her Chair

I don't really write poetry. I just felt it would be the best medium to convey my emotional state. I think I might get into writing poetry more, but I want opinions first.

She sits in the adhesive chair 

Tensed in hesitation, she stares

Enveloped warmly, sweetly, gently

Darkness cradles her tight, lovingly

She allows herself to descend, so deep

In brief syrupy respite, it will creep

Harshly startled yet not surprised in any way

Alike jarring moments scatter across the day

Choked hatefully, frantically, tormentfully

Panic grips her in sheer desperation, beastly

She is vastly frightened yet also indifferent

Yet also intrigued by it’s great demand, important

Yet also disabled, entrapped within it’s hypnotism

Yet also contaminated by it’s non-hermitism

She is filled with surges of lust for what she cannot have

Seduced by visions of boundless potential, she will pave,

Phony pathways forged within an inaccessible realm

Incomplete directions towards a beautiful freedom

A chance at infinite emotion, divine energy

She pictures euphoria, yet it is heavily foggy

Blurred deeply by agitation, by fear, by where she stands

Or rather sits, stuck to the ground, ignoring her command

Panic cries out, begging to be listened to considerately

It warns of what is to come if she discards opportunity

What will die if she continues to turn the other way,

Purposely blinding herself to life's abundance, delay

Delaying an exhilarating leap into the existent realm

Constantly looking past beauty never accessible again

Bypassing much of what contributes to one’s humanity

Who notices her vanishing from meager existence? Nobody

For she has already reached a point where she is so faint, so frail

It is far too late for her to be saved, she knows that she will soon fail

She cannot form her rapid thoughts in a way fully decipherable 

Unable

She is now,

Simply too exhausted

Simply too frightened

Simply too confused

Simply too unconfrontational

Simply too negligent

Simply too lazy

She sinks into darkness again

Respite’s sweet caress leaves tearstain

Certainty provides mild comfort

Comfort creating discomfort

Author's Note

Overall opinions? I can't tell if it's shit or if poetry is something I should continue. I didn't know where else to look for opinions from writers.