heaviness settles across my shoulders
and i slow to a near standstill
i cannot help it
i am so very weary
tired down to the marrow in my bones
fighting this beast
the beast is me
but is not of my own creation
i am so very tired
allowing the blackness that is inside these veins
to bleed through the cracks of my
bravery and confidence
and contaminate everything in
and around me
stuck in the mire like a lost lamb
i have become what i hate
what i despise
a loathsome creature
with wants that far exceed my needs
wants that cause rifts
that push and pull me in a million directions
draw and quarter me
leave my head on a spike
to stop my destructive path and serve
as a reminder to all
that this monster i have become
foul and ugly
was not of my creation
and cannot be undone