They call it a descent. A spiral. A fall.
As if you have failed over and over
Feeling new emotions with each new failure.
The truth is, it's the same every **** time.
The same nightmare.
The same uncontrollable shaking.
The familiar feeling of bile rising.
The familiar ache to be grounded.
And you can't help but give in.
The old blade is dug out,
Though you thought it was long forgotten.
The pain is sweet.
It seems to bring you down,
Bring you back to an Earth you hate
But are too afraid to leave.
The same events repeat.
The next night, the next week, the next month.
And the only difference between each one
Is that you hate yourself just a bit more
For spiraling once again.