I’m not winning, I’m punch drunk.
I’m just waiting for the next disappointment
I keep getting battered, my best defences are weakening,
It’s draining me of all rationale,
The writing is on the wall, I’m going to end it.

I process these thoughts which lead to the bridge for some,
The blade or the pill or the clifftop for others.
But I’m aware, I know my enemy.
It will not defeat me, this most horrible of foes.
I see him in the mirror each day

This charming face belies the monster within,
This self-loathing, destructive ugly thing.
But it only hurts itself, only directs the worst venom inward.
You think what I shouted at you was the worst of it?
You’re crying! You should feel this in here with me.

This cancerous lump of emotion belongs nowhere,
It’s in my head, but not my heart.
Whenever the lights come on I still have that.
I cling to it like a life raft in the storm.
Then the clouds break and I’m free!

I fly so high it’s dizzying, exhilarating, fulfilling!
Until the fall, not like a dream fall,
Slow, almost inch by inch from a great height.
There is no soft landing, just a thud and the darkness
Then it’s Tuesday.
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