Waking up is the worst part of my day
It’s this awful reminder that I exist
That the nights I pretend life isn’t real
I’m forced to wake and feel like this

But that’s the issue with breathing isn’t it?
You don’t exactly have a choice
You can’t shut off your heartbeat
Or it’s persistent, pestering voice

Asking what you’ve managed to remember
Before passing out atop your bed
Wondering how it’s managed to come to this
And what the **** was going on inside your head

Because now the sun has risen
To cast light all over my shame
Cutting straight into the darkness
That hid my face and name

Blurry, awful recollections
Swirl around inside my mind
I try not to search too hard
Because I’m scared of what I’ll find

It’s amazing how I manage
To keep myself afloat
When every ******* weekend
I poke more holes inside my boat

You ask me why I do this
Believe me, I wonder the same
There are many reasons, honestly
But I think that I’m mostly to blame

I allowed myself this problem
I’ve allowed me to be used
I cry when people punch me
Then I pick and poke the bruise

So then it starts to heal
And my reasons go away
There’s nothing for me to show for it
But the hurt chooses to stay

Still I smile and laugh and joke
Pretend that everything is fine
All the while wishing me and Misery
Weren’t so very intertwined

There is comfort in the sadness
Because there’s nowhere left to go
I’m already sprawled out on the ground
Each time Life hits me with a blow

What would happen if I were happy?
That’s a long way for me to fall
Rock bottom is much farther
When you’ve managed to stand tall

Of anyone, I know this
Having started from the top
And now that I’ve started falling
I just don’t know how to stop

As most would feel about me
I’m sure this fact would leave you stumped
I wasn’t pushed into this place
I wasn’t pushed; I jumped.  

There’s an enigmatic balance
In choosing to self-destruct
It’s brought on by other’s actions
And sustained by one’s own conduct

Then you’re stuck inside a circle
Of your own turbid caprice
Wondering desperately how and when
This cycle will finally cease

Down at the bottom of this hole
I worked so long and hard to dig
I can barely see the sunlight any more.

My feet are molding from the salty damp
That doesn’t come from rain
Or subterranean springs or rivers.

My shovel leans against the wall,
It’s wooden handle crimsoned
On the dirt that also isn’t paint.

Impossible for wind to reach me
Way down here, so what’s that howling
That I hear?  Could it possibly be me?
                ljm

If destiny has a plan for us,* why make it a checker game?
There is a winner, but both sides lose pieces

If destiny has a plan for us, why add in others?
The recipe only calls for two

When destiny had a plan for us,
You threw away the script without a fuss