The Cycle

I can feel,

My brain telling me to cry,

I need to let it out,

I am stressed, scared, sad.

My body won’t let me.

They are in constant war.

My life: the battle ground.

My sanity: the reward.

--

I can feel,

My logic telling me to get help,

I need to talk,

I am defeated, alone, sinking.

My pride won’t let me.

They are in a fist fight,

Constant jabs, uppercuts, and hooks,

Till my pride pulls a gun.

--

I can feel,

The stars collapsing.

The ground caving.

The walls crumbling. 

I try to push the stars back up,

Place them in their correct positions,

But they are out of order,

A clumsy mess,

Leaving me lost, wandering.

I try to grasp the ground,

Hold it in place,

But it concaves,

A dark abyss,

Leaving me hanging, falling.

I try to support the walls,

Keep them together,

But the pieces tumble,

A pile of rubble,

Leaving me shattered, damaged.

--

I can feel,

Reality: slipping.

Hope: fading.

Faith: lacking.

I try to tighten my grasp on reality,

Clasp on to the last piece,

But my hands glide off,

I watch it shrink,

As I fall farther away.

I try to piece fragments of hope,

Pull them till they connect,

But they push apart,

I watch them get smaller,

As they fade faster and faster.

I try to restore faith,

I pray –to what?- and try to believe,

But my prayers aren’t answered,

I watch belief diminish,

As I get shoved off.

--

Nothingness comforts me,

It’s warm embrace holds me tight.

Emptiness stalks me,

Watching my every mood.

Holiness abandons me,

Leaving me as only sin.

Voices haunt me,

Overshadowing my thoughts.

--

My body becomes weak,

Deprived of what it needs.

Starvation and malnourishment,

I am bare.

Carried by the wind,

Part of the earth.