I feel pain everyday
A mental collapse inside my brain
My mind just isn’t the same

I’ve become a sad version of myself
I no longer enjoy the things
That used to bring me joy everyday

I no longer have a reason to wake in the morning from my slumber
Sometimes I wish before I drift off to sleep
That I may not wake in the morning

My wishes go unanswered...

I continue to rise into each day
Succumbing at the very end and praying that I wouldn’t have to start over again the next day
And so I do

I wake only to wish for the night again
I contemplate the purpose of continuing it
What is stopping me from stopping me?
Only the what ifs

What if it gets better
What if one day I no longer cry
What if I no longer crave the pain to cease
And it simply isn’t there
What if one day I no longer want to stop breathing
Or stop my heart from beating
Or contemplate ceasing

What if I want to live

My thoughts are plagued by neverending hopelessness of an even worse tomorrow
I tell myself that it doesn’t get better
So it mustn’t

My hope died a long time ago
Along with my carefree soul
And passionate heart
It ceased

So I must cease along with it
I must become forgotten
I must be no longer.

ANY state of mind but despair is illusion.
ANY illusion is a deceit to oneself.
ANYTHING but despair is false.
Illusion will always be just a lie to give meaning to delusions.
To hide truths and ease the consciousness to false belief.
Reality is only evident when despair prevails.
When eyes can see beyond the masks and veils of the everyday.
Illusion and delusion are the common state in which we live.
The reality of despair is where truths prevail always.
Illusion and delusion torn aside.... despair.

To travel from light to darkness takes but the instant to blink.
To return requires an unknown path and a light worth finding.

Left-handed, a lefty, the other arm.
It is forgotten because it’s weaker.
The other, extra, the one with no charm.
If it were a woman, none would seek her.

The sinister and the clumsy left hand.
Derogated abnormality.
Like an afterthought that was never planned.
Its only benefit is symmetry.

At least I could have been ambidextrous.
Then I’d be capable on either side.
I want perfection, not a little less.
This left hand is a source of wounded pride.

When can the useless ever find their place?
This dangling vestige had made me bereft.
But then I found that someone to embrace,
And I saw the potential I had left.

I don't write of things of beauty even though I have seen it.
I don't write of things of joy even though I have felt it.
I don't write of happiness even though I have experienced it.
I don't write of hope even though I once trusted in it.
I don't write of love even though I have witnessed it.
I don't write of sense of purpose even though I once had it.
I don't write of companionship even though I knew it.
I don't write of trust even though I once could do it.
I don't write of belief though faith once made me see it.
I write of despair for once I knew them all.

Have you seen the mice all running, running in their wheel.
"Knowing" and "believing", what are delusions, to them is "real".
Rarely seeing other mice outside the wheel they're in.
Only time for thinking of keeping their own wheel on spin.
So happy and contented when they are spinning there.
So many trivialities that to them equal despair.
Keep the wheel a spinning, a spinning at a pace.
Never knowing that following circles just takes you to no place.
Mice ask me why I have no wheel and treat me as though I am lost.
I once did tread my wheel my delusions unable to sustain the cost.
Watching countless wheels without sense spinning on and on.
From beyond the wheel my delusions shattered, have now all gone.
Without a wheel there seems no purpose no reason to try and spin.
But once seen outside of wheels there seems no way to get back in.

I sometimes take time to write a few lines of verse.
Quite often to express feelings to prevent them getting worse.
Often I express things that are there as thoughts in my own head.
Sometimes its just things that I feel have needed to be said.
I don't always consider the impact or repercussions of things that I may write.
And I don't seek to make it all rhyme as a way for me to seem all bright.
I find it the best way to express how conflicted I can feel.
Inside my head it helps my thoughts focus on what I see as "real".
You may not understand the emotions or maybe share my train of thought.
But I will write how I think and how I feel even if against things we've all been taught.
Its my way of expressing "truths" that I just need others to try and see.
In part an explanation of why I cant be the way others would like for me to be.
I write these lines as often as I am compelled to want to do.
To give understanding and to express the things my mind perceives as true.
Whether challenge or expression of lies life has forced me to be taught.
I use the writing of these words to patch the walls of my emotional fort.
I write the verse as a glimpse beyond my fragile fortress wall.
I do it so all can see my sanity was dented by its fall.
There is little I can do about the glimpses you may choose to see.
Knowing that what you spy beyond the wall is not every part of me.
The words are how I perceive the world not to influence thoughts in your head.
But maybe...you have some understanding of me... from these words that now are read.

Beyond your own gloom.
Soulmates suffer silently.
There you find purpose.