Lost Cause

My past is permanent

ink on my skin;

cuts that scar my body.

Pain flowing like an

endless river,

always fading to gray.

Foggy skies appear as the

memories in the clouds begin to

fall from my tear ducts, dripping

onto the pure white sheets where

I lay suffering.

I stare at a familiar face,

severe pain

in her glossy light brown eyes.

Memories resurface, reminding

me

it's not over.

The cold shower ritual returns,

creating a sense of

loneliness as the

minor keys penetrate

into my aching soul.

The blood is flooding the

floor I stand upon, my

legs then descent.

Bruised kneecaps now holding the

weight of my misery,

I sob.

The tears start to flow

faster than the water

rolling down my spine, and

cuts seemingly

deeper each glance I take.

My hand covers my mouth,

holding in all the

pain I so dearly need to release.

My chest burning,

head pounding,

body aching.

I lean my head onto the

stone cold tile as I await a call

I knew would not come.

I dry the mistaken water

droplets off my face and

acknowledge a

red rainstorm of regret

rolling down my thighs.

The sound of music

stops abruptly and the

remaining discolored water

whirlwinds down the drain.

Detached from reality,

I prepare to

open the door

into a life no longer feasible.

Before my departure, I stare at my

reflection and say, "you're okay."

I was not.

I would never be;

my demons

told me so.