It feels as though I am standing on top of a burning building and I'm scared and alone and helpless and the only way is down but I can't get any further down than I already am but that's just false in hope because when the floor beneath me gives way I find myself falling through all nine gates of hell except Dante was wrong there are so many more than that and I can't seem to find the ground with which I'm supposed to stand and dust off and move on but I can't move on when the weight of sadness sits on my chest and my lungs are filled with all the toxicity of broken promises and lost love and being loved by those who are obligated to love you but somehow missed the memo that I needed to be shown what love is and what love is not because in its absence I had to make it make sense all on my own but I didn't know how so I did it all wrong and made all the wrong choices and did all the wrong things so now I live with the shame and regret of never doing things the right way and I'm so tired of playing catch-up with the ghost of who I could have been because who I am now is wrong and everything is wrong and I'm just so tired of feeling like I could cry and crying so much that I've cried away all hope that anything will change until I notice a
cool breeze after a rainstorm that ruffles the blankets that have been hanging just over my eyelids darkening my view and I can see daylight so bright it warms my face and touches my skin like water in a hot bath to wash myself of all the anger and hate and hopelessness and loss and I am able to smile again and I can move and sing and see good where once there was only empty and just as quickly as it came the floor on which I found my footing becomes quicksand and I am unable to move and I can see the darkness closing in and I know that I should have jumped off the building when I had the chance because at least it would have been a certain fate instead of continuing to live a life where the seasons change with the blink of an eye and I never seem to have the right clothes to wear.
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After the Fall
PoetryThis is a "stream of conciseness poem" about depression/Bipolar disorder