Depressed Poems or whatever it might be

4

No arms, no legs.
No chest, no head.
No soul, no fire.
Exhausted and tired.

Where once I blossomed,
I now crumble.
Where once I sang,
I now cry.
Where once I ran,
I now stumble.
It has become, too often, the norm to die.

But my relationship with a noose is one sided.
It calls but does not love. It hugs and discards.
And then you have a knife.
A silver red which never seems to care.
Where my satisfaction of blood will only be answered by outside man, stabbed and left to succumb to warmth.

With no satisfaction, and no death to await,
I'm left in the dark where nothing makes sense.
My emotions are tangled leaving me to feel nothing.
I'm locked inside my mind with no horizon view.

And no words are spoken,
For I am on my own.
Left in a world so blank that the faintest cry for help is left unheard.
And despite the sparks flying from the unseen walls which are miles away but leave me trapped in my square,
I fall.

I stand but fall. I get up and fall. There is no purpose but to lay on my knees and search for that last glimmer of hope which I beg is still there.