I don't know the sins for which I must atone. What actions have led me to this place cold and alone.
If solitude builds fortitude then let me be a weak man, this was never the plan. To be pushed to the edge of all that I can stand.
Then break, snap of a finger pulls me back to the moment, out of my tears, my fears, to the dark reality where no one cares.
Oxygen goes down like soup clouding my lungs, I choke. Another slip in this life is a joke. Not even worth the mention. If life was a school I'd be relegated to detention.
Alone again, only now in a crowd. Only an observer shielded by the shroud. The gloomy cloud, that follows me, pours on me constant regrets. Leaves me isolated, neighbors fear getting wet. But don't sweat, I'm not quite ready for pity yet.
Keep your distance stay afar, I'm less a person more a scar. Born or pain and hate, it's not up for debate. I was cast into the role in blighted fate. And so I wait, to stand before death's dreaded gate. And give a nod to the reaper, I'm sorry I'm late.
YOU ARE READING
Dark Nights at Noon A Collection of Poetry
PoesieA collection of poems about my struggles with mental health issues. Writing has always been an escape for me and it has exposed me to some of the most wonderful and creative people this generation has to offer. Their words continue to inspire me to...
