it has been in vain
all my efforts come to naught
because no matter how much i struggle
all it does is tighten the knot in the noose that is looped 'round my neck
and further my development into this train wreck of a person
who can barely manage
to get up and fake it through one more day
when all she wants is to sit down and say
i am done
i give up
i am clearly not enough
i couldn't cut it
i didn't make it
i never thought it would be this tough
but failure has never been something that i handled well
and these events are to me nothing more than a bell
tone that signals the end of the death knell
that will sound for me at the end of my struggle
because no one will ever be as hard on me as i am
or as cruel as the thoughts in my own head
and as anxiety swarms, planning its next attack
i am still trying to recover from its first blow
the one that hit me like an all-star fullback
falling just short of a true death blow
because ending my misery is not in the nature
of the cruelest mental illness whose nomenclature
does not do justice to all its wicked wiles
nor explains truly how twisted and vile
it is to have the voices in your own head turn against you
and seek to break you down
no matter what you do
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 7:47 AM UTC
it has been in vain
all my efforts come to naught
because no matter how much i struggle
all it does is tighten the knot in the noose that is looped 'round my neck
and further my development into this train wreck of a person
who can barely manage
to get up and fake it through one more day
when all she wants is to sit down and say
i am done
i give up
i am clearly not enough
i couldn't cut it
i didn't make it
i never thought it would be this tough
but failure has never been something that i handled well
and these events are to me nothing more than a bell
tone that signals the end of the death knell
that will sound for me at the end of my struggle
because no one will ever be as hard on me as i am
or as cruel as the thoughts in my own head
and as anxiety swarms, planning its next attack
i am still trying to recover from its first blow
the one that hit me like an all-star fullback
falling just short of a true death blow
because ending my misery is not in the nature
of the cruelest mental illness whose nomenclature
does not do justice to all its wicked wiles
nor explains truly how twisted and vile
it is to have the voices in your own head turn against you
and seek to break you down
no matter what you do
Request permission to use this poem