Well, this year was far crazier than the last
That's okay 'cause I brought my fight in full blast
After twelve months, the problems are yet to go
But in the face of it all, the strength and support did grow
And it was rough, some months it was hell
But I made it through like a wint'ry cold spell
I came, I saw, I did become
Save the vici for later; I'm nowhere near done

Each day will be different,
And no feeling will ever last,
You’ll climb some mountains to the top,
And others you’ll fall down fast,
There will be days you can’t get up,
And nights where you can’t sleep,
This place called Life is where you’re at,
Where none of us asked to be,
There will be moments you fall in love,
And a broken heart will follow,
You’ll learn very quickly the meaning behind,
“We were not promised tomorrow,”
We all hate something about ourselves,
So we pick on others,
And we never stop to think about,
How one another suffers,
This place is hard to understand,
So make it up as you go,
And no one can tell you why you’re here,
Because no one really knows.

Denial
  I did deny that your kisses were shorter
And when I reached out to hold your hand, you would...
Count a few seconds before reaching to your phone, to keep your hands busy.
Or that you would always find an excuse, to spend less intimate time with me.

Anger
  At the fact that I chose to stay with you, than to spend time with my family.
I willingly chose to accept your invitation.
Angry at the fact that I could not do amything beyond my time.

Bargain
  I tried talking and listening to your side.
You said you no longer want verbal and physical gestures of affection
You said that we have to hide our aftections, for others are quick to judge..
And you always introduced me as a friend.
I accepted your terms. Bargaining I did... To make us last a little bit longer.

I was just prolonging my agony. Thinking it was worth it.

Depression.
  Every night I cried
I have never experienced this much pain.
For seeing you so near to my grasp,
Yet holding you was never an option.

Acceptance.
  Give me more time.
Then maybe I will accept this fate,
Of losing the one I loved for reasons unknown, or perhaps, for no reason at all...

The first thing that happens
is the world collapses.
That is, it reduces down
but only I seem to notice.
Everything becomes flatter,
the depth stripped away
like rotted lumber,
like when they gut a building
but leave the historic facade,
and I feel like I'm limping
postcard to postcard
until eventually like I'm peering
into a discarded diorama,
where everything is smaller
than it should be,
the crudest copy of itself, and
everything is bounded
by shoebox limits
I can sense them everywhere.

The second thing that happens
is that I avoid everyone.
I avoid my mother on Christmas,
I can't look my therapist in her eye,
I cancel a date because
I can't handle the contact.
I touch my skin and it's like
touching paper that's been creased
hundreds of times -
old pulp that frays and splits.

The third thing that happens
is that I lose interest.
I put in whatever minimums
the day requires
and not a scratch more.
I put my mail aside
and watch crows
gather on the branch,
facing the valley,
black eye to black eye,
base wings folded against
the sleek unbearable body.

The last thing that happens
is that life cheapens.
It's hard not to notice,
since the papers and the news
and everybody's phone
blasts forth the parade of death.
No one is spared, children,
animals, the happy, the hale.
And soon these thoughts -
that life ends without reason,
that God has retreated from the world,
that no step is worthwhile -
begin to bleed in my head.
They lead to the paralysis
of a patient wrapped in gauze,
leaving only the eyes free to move
and notice the great black wing
that scythes into the valley,
feathers dark as stout,
the sun setting in its usual
incompetent way, the wing
so graceful that it might be
the only beautiful thing,
falling out of sight,
into nothingness,
down the *****
into the stale dusk,
into the exact center
of a limitless depression.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.