I am surrounded by the kind and the giving
who offer to support me through anything
And yet
And yet as their reach out their hands, offering aid
I do not reach back. Their love waylaid
It is not as though I am not sinking
It is not as though I am not drowning
I do not believe
I don’t think it is ego that stays my hand
I think it is more likely to be self-harm in the end
Letting myself sink, lungs aflame
I make feeble efforts alone, limp and lame
An elaborate means of punishing myself
What for? I do not remember myself
All I know, as I am embraced by darkness
is that this feels deserved
YOU ARE READING
poetic mistakes
Poésiejust my musings Feel free to leave comments or whatever but don't expect me to do anything about it. This is just a place I put what I write
