To cope I am suspended,
Somewhere between reflection and avoidance,
Floating somewhere in bewildered aloofness,
Between the extremes of exaggerated truths,
Absolved from responsibility
And yet crippled by guilt and shame.

I take my medication and to cope
I am suspended, mid fall.
Unsure whether I should punish myself
For doing what I thought would fulfil me,
Or stroke my ego,
Lift myself up above negative consequences
And outlooks, and believe that I am
Absolved from all sins.
There’s always a good excuse
For falling, for flying.
I’m suspended, numb.
It’s become the rumbling beneath my feet,
The stabbing pain in my heart,
The habit to forget,
The suspense of suspension.

When will I crash, when will I soar?
What are all these thoughts for?
I don’t have the answers,
I’m scared if it’ll hurt to find them.
So if remain
Suspended in mid air,
There is no risk
Will I be fine then?