Like a vast ocean,
the overwhelming weight sinks the insides,
marking a persisting emptiness.
Like a vulnerable fool,
waiting to breakdown.
The surroundings serves naught
but reminder
to why you want out.
Yet there's no way around life than to live.
How for everything there is a reason.
Yet you can't find anything else at fault.
For the things that happened,
for the way they reacted.
As though every snap-back of the stretched rubber band
signifying effort,
is well-deserved.
Putting it out there always comes back like a beating,
a reminder why you clam up in the first place.
The effort becomes too much,
constantly repressing,
constantly reminding,
how worthless it'd be,
like offering iced water in winter.
Then you tell yourself
you don't deserve this,
or that,
or anything else.
It seems like everything is wrong.
You can't fix it.
You can't end it.
You can't seek help.
When life busts about,
you partake,
you live,
like its
the only freedom.
When you're stuck,
it feels deserving.
Being in misery,
causing misery,
asking to be put out of misery,
dreaming of it,
yet so scared to disappoint the only one that matters.
He who seems to have never given up,
He who never gives what you can't handle.
Yet you feel the burden of it all
weighing you down.
Just awaiting,
for the day it all ends,
hoping that He'll forgive you,
hoping that one day,
you can return,
loved.
& still you believe to be undeserving.
How do I live now,
when each ray of hope
isn't mine,
when each blame
lies on me,
when the cycle never seem to end.
The heart cries for salvation,
and the ones close
to never hear of it.
