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Pyrrha Nov 2020
My life feels like it's hanging by a thread
I've pushed away all my stress and worry
And now it surrounds me everywhere I look
It's like I'm tight-roping over the river of Styx
And all my fears, concerns and doubts
Are reaching for me
Like desperate hungry hands
Searching for their relief
Like the hands of those souls
Begging for a release

But where exactly is my relief?
Where does the end of this rope land?
Tartarus or the Elysian Fields?
Will I make it to my Elysium
Or will I bathe in the sea of souls?
Will I bear the Curse of Achilles
Or will I be trapped there myself?
All the worries that surround me
Make me feel like diving in
Isn't so bad
Pyrrha Nov 2019
He thinks that everything that blooms and flourishes is only born to wither before it perishes
Happiness to him is like a candle that's run out of wax and can no longer be lit
I try to lift him from his pain, but I carry him away in vain
Everytime I think I'm holding him high enough above his fears and insecurities
He's distanced himself and disappeared once more

He's a rose that's grown from sand
He only sees himself as a freak and an anomaly
People around him tell him he's a burden
That he is useless and insignificant
They take advantage of his kindness
He wants to disappear rather than be a disappointment

I feel like I'm always fighting to hold him above the river of Styx full of souls with their reaching arms desperate to drown him
If my love isn't enough to save him
I hope someone with stronger arms will come along and pull him from the current and onto land at last

— The End —