I sit on the floor
sobbing, weeping
against the garbage can
it's right that I end here
Thoughts of an end
thoughts of the end
finality, stopping the noise
my head is an echo chamber
a cacophony assaults me
a sinuous voice winds through
telling me it's right to do this

I sit on the floor
breaking every promise
making lies of my words
driven by shame
she comes and finds me there
the edge to end it in my hand
my incoherent pleas brushed aside
the things I start and never finish
in the moment it seemed so clear
to succeed at last at something, anything

a week has gone and still
my mind travels along that edge
how did I get here when
I had long ago put this aside
in a moment it surged out
surrounding me, from somewhere
deep, deep inside
I feel like that child again
made wrong and ***** in the closet
made bruised and battered by
hands that were to guide me
fleeing from the anger into shame

I find brief moments of peace
a tenuous hold that is so fleeting
I grasp for meaning, for purpose
I look again for hope, to continue
to end this fear of myself
to see myself through eyes untainted
by the loathing and hate that I see
through the eyes that are mine