Some morning I awake
To find myself tittering on the precipice.
Hair-thin strands of faith
Keep me dangling.
In times of strength
I can almost weave them
Into durability;
But I find then snapping
Like a guitar string
I wonder between sanity and psychosis
And though I fear the abyss
This uncertainty
Finds me longing to cut the strings.
How much longer can I endure?
This mind that I remember to be strong
Somehow isn't
And knowing that
Almost frightens me more
Than the dark uncertainty.
When
Did death began to look
Like salvation?
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
Some morning I awake
To find myself tittering on the precipice.
Hair-thin strands of faith
Keep me dangling.
In times of strength
I can almost weave them
Into durability;
But I find then snapping
Like a guitar string
I wonder between sanity and psychosis
And though I fear the abyss
This uncertainty
Finds me longing to cut the strings.
How much longer can I endure?
This mind that I remember to be strong
Somehow isn't
And knowing that
Almost frightens me more
Than the dark uncertainty.
When
Did death began to look
Like salvation?