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I sigh as I rest my wear'ed body on my happy cot.
Wherefore is my head is drumming with aching beats?
No, not a migraine, but it is a numbness-
Numb
defined as a loss of the feelings...
feelings of my mortal compartments?
or of this empty void of mere crimson-
hypocritically drawn on my chest that I must call my heart?
nothing more than a pound of pumping flesh
that just pumps;
it doesn't feel at all-
yet it always intrigues me that it can bleed-
bleed like any poor soul, losing his or her life force
every second.
it's pouring like a thinned liquid
I sighed... those happy memories...
shattered all of the sudden.
Now nothing more than my drug...failed medication of my depression...
It's not making me any better; might as well turn it into poison...
never... too agonizing
even the chains are too cruel-or too kind- to bind me as a prisoner...
Many claimed they are falling through a spiral
but I
not I, sir
not I, ma'am
am not falling
but stuck.
stuck to write this soliloquy
to tell thee, fair traverser of despair
that thou art better to fall than to be stuck;
you would find thyself at the end of this "bottomless hole"
but I
not I, sir
not I, ma'am
I'm confined in this spiral that won't let me fall...