Disclaimer: this poem comes from one of the deeper, rarer parts of me. It’s occasional I feel this way, but when I catch these feelings, I’d rather them be spat on paper; in opposition to have them compile my thoughts, interfere with my optimism, etc.

 

Every day is getting harder.

Every hour seems longer.

Every second hurts more.

Every footstep takes more effort.

Every smile seems more fake.

 

My life is falling apart.

 

Too long since I have been like this.

Too long since I have had the ability to experience true happiness.

Too long since I’ve kept it all in.

Too long since I have tried.

Too long since I have let go.

 

My life is falling apart.

 

My eyes are red, from lack of sleep.

My chest burns, from lack of breath.

My heart aches, from lack of love.

My will is gone, from lack of thought.

My body feels heavy, from lack of relaxing.

 

I, myself, am falling apart.

I lack the will in continuation to prosper and live.

I wish I didn’t exist.