Is it a sin to be tired?
I'm too desensitised
By the burden I carry
To even care a little
My responsibilities
My consequences
My. Fucking. Fault.
It's all that matters
I've been playing a
Fools card, sleight
Of hand and I lost
The game, myself
Your soft words are
Harsher than if you
Screamed off ears
Why did you do this?
Are you ashamed
Of your own creation?
Disown me, diverge
Splinter from my evil
You tell me to fight
How could I when
I'm too damn busy
Fighting myself—?
My weapons are all
Turned towards me
And held by my own
Shaking pallid hands
I'm choking on my
Own wicked tongue
And my inhumanity
Trying to win back
And I'm too jaded
To even sugarcoat
Taste the bitterness
Of my raw emotions
And judge me now
Place yourselves in
My bloodied shoes
And jump off a cliff
My soul's smothering
Strangling, throttling
The ignition, setting
My heart into flames
Living is but a chore
Every inhaling feels
Like a dagger in my
Throat, on my lungs
Sliding sharp, slicing
Someone give me an
Oxygen tank, its tubes
Aid my respiration, or
Better yet, pull the plug
Why would you care?
It's too late to repair me
Irreparable damage, I'm
Hopeless, godless cause
Don't bury your conscience
I just need to be saved
But where were you when
I called help back then?
The noose is getting tighter
I'm standing on my tiptoes
I'll ask you a final question
So answer me this, will you?
Is it a fucking sin to be tired?
But you looked away guiltily
Pretend you didn't hear walls
All crashing down, hellward
And you ask me if I'm okay
My face is purple, words rasp
My life is a damn falling mess
Shit, do you even need to ask?
It's so fucking obvious, alright?
...I'm fine. Just breathe. Breathe.
YOU ARE READING
Catharsis | ×
Poetry"A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage..." -William Blake
