When is it that you give up?
That you let infernos fire devour your strength
That you let delusion's screams chant a lamented melody for you to sleep by
That you let pain kiss your every waking thought goodbye

When is it that you get up to that point?
When you let the palpable tension of fear tighten a noose around your neck
When your mind doesn't register the calls of anguish any more because its numb
When  everything around you dulls to a faint buzz, and the colours drain with malady and the light shines with hate

When is it that you shatter?*
That the limbs of your body tear to stones,
That the hate which he possesses drowns you into storms
That every tears which falls from your eyes carry an anchor to the deepest pits of ocean
That the simplest motions reduce you to screams and blades
And the only waking thought in your mind is suicide.

When is it that you decide enough is enough?
That you decide you can't do this
You can't try anymore
You can't pretend to be strong
You can't smile anymore
You can't be happy ever again.
That the only thing you want to do now is sleep for eternity...

Should I answer this  question?
Should Itell you when specifically you give up?
It's  not up to me though.
You don't have to listen to me.
However if you want to know what I think
Then the answer my friends Is
Never

So when is it that you give up? Decide that you can't do this anymore?
Never

It is incredibly hard to describe how much you have made an impact in my life,
my words are pitiful when compared to the beauty you unknowingly emanate,
such effulgent rapture grows within your heart
as I clumsily pour words together to form a poem
like an intoxicated man hiding inside himself,
I can only feign my pride at myself
when inside in turmoil I struggle to come to terms with
the ineluctable truth
**That my poetry is a measly attempt at trying to convey the essence of the
poem your life is for me.

A sudden monsoon of the soft pitter patter of rain,
slowly cries for her unwilling part in love
drenching her mood in despair
as the sun quietly caresses her  hair
with its dim autumn-lit rays,
unknowingly drying her silky charcoal locks
to long brittle pieces on which she trips as
ice forms its sharp tresses on the
mud barren ground to capture her
in supposed safety
as she unwittingly falls.
A thin stream of tears trickle, ever so gently,
down her ivory countenance.
But in her turmoil,
a gentle breeze quickly dries
her pained tears.
"Such beautiful eyes...", the wind purrs
as it stealthily wraps
its blindingly cold arms
around her pale wounded heart..