So this is hell, where I should die
A grave I dug for myself
To lie down and slowly fade
All that I am to shift and suffocate
Dirt heaped in abusive piles snuffing out my life
The air is toxic, my lungs ache from holding my breath
I deserve it. I am the coward who ran away
Running to safety, or running to death?
Who of us can tell.
I will die here, gasping for air and sweet release
Alas none shall I find, for true freedom is not my Fate.
The Fear shakes me to my core
I’m falling without support
I have come undone
It’s too late to tell
How far I already fell
I cry out in desperate needing
Can anyone stop this bleeding
Alone I watch my whole world fade
Grounding wires help me find the way
On them I tripped
Carelessly I slipped
Nothing makes sense anymore
I must be Braver than before
Closing my eyes to block out the sound
Suddenly I can feel the ground
Little miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating her cottage cheese.
Along came a spider, that sat down beside her
And ravaged her with his greed.
The little girl wept, alone and bereft
Awaiting to be normal again
But alone on her tuffet, she became a buffet
For spiders washed out by the rain
Sometime later, prince charming did save her
And plucked her up from her demise.
She was lonlier then, than ever had been
And left the wolf in disguise.
Tumbling weary, her sight going bleary,
She accepted her heart was no good for love.
The past that shaped her, made her run from any savior
Who might come to her side to help her rise above
Warm arms that never comforted
Cold heart that beats blindly for more
Lips that just wont satisfy the ache inside the soul
Wrap the blanket tighter against the cold
Shivering alone inside the darkness of my soul
Missing the raptures of new found love
The tempest of emotions that rage curiously
Exciting romance, springing to life for the first time
Or is it the last time? Is it another braking time?
Missing the thrill of a first mate on debut
Missing the jitters that go with laying eyes on someone new
The journey began waning falling off it’s course
Perhaps theres hope but neither knows for sure
Say you love, but I know better
Say you want this, but I know better
Say you’ll fix it, but I know better.
Hi, it’s me, a little miss Nobody
And I want to share, is anybody listening
All of those times I was strong
I carried on, breathless and silent
Now I’m alone. Does anybody hear my screams?
The words, they’re biting.
Yet the pages are still so dry
I stare mindless into outer space because
Nobody can hear me, nobody will see me.
Out there in the great big world of drivers,
So certain of the way they’re going.
Taking this road, that road, winding.
And yet here I am all turned around and sliding.
They make it seems so easy,
They make it seems so Right.
Each one has someone beside them.
Each one has someone there behind them.
Steadily I take back the wheel, so afraid of
What lies in front, the headlights are dirty.
The darkness has fallen, and now it’s cold out.
Can anyone hear me? I’m blinded in twilight.
The sparkling shimmer of water on the road guides me.
Back to the freeway where I turned off, for another broken dream.
It’s fading now, the traffic is slowing down.
Somebody crashed. They jumped out to find,
We’re all just trying to figure this out
And I’ve figured out
I will go it all alone. I can make it, but I’ll still be alone in the end when I crash.
I see your unshed tears sitting behind your eyes. The sorrow overwhelming your heavy heart.
Let go of the burden and take my hands. They’re empty, they’re ready, they’re yours.
Little black bird, flightless and weak, don’t let this hurricane drown you.
Though you’re tossed in the wind, and your feathers are damp, I promise your wings will dry.
The sun is always shining-though sometimes only above the clouds.
We’re all caught in this everlasting Wheel, sometimes spinning out of control.
Stop the endless despair and stretch your hand out for someone reach.
Don’t go it alone. Let us protect you.
Let us in. Here, let me show you the way.
A radiant star blazed in the night sky, enchanting the galaxy with it’s glow.
Constellations had never been more brilliant without it’s illumination. Like a knot drawing completion to the tapestry of space, it gleamed with pride.
As years began to pass, surrounding stars became uncomfortable with the glowing orb. Secretly each neighboring star began to feel as though it’s light dimmed their own glory.
“You’re too bright. Tone it down. Nobody wants to stare at you. You do nothing but fill yourself with hot air.”
“Make room for other stars to join in, you take up too much space for your tiny self.”
Overtime, the star believed the words the others had spoken and slowly the constellation began to dim.
Feeling snubbed, the constellation complained yet again, “Look at you, you dry and dulling excuse for a Star. How could you possibly be worthy of this cluster like that? What will the planets say? What shall the Galaxy say when we tell Her of your condition?”
Feeling out of place and alone the star began to dull darker still. It slowly grew larger in size, fading to red.
Some believed it was in anger. Others said it was from old age.
Finally, before another negative word could be said, the star burst in a violent explosion of light. One final clap of brilliance before it died away forever.
For some reason, I’m suffering from unshakeable depression. It’s as though there’s an unsatiable chasm in my chest, draining away all of my energy, creativity, and distorting all of my emotions.
This is also affecting my ability to write, and make beautiful things come to life in words. Which causes further frustration, leading to more wilting away of self.
I’m finally home with my husband again – there’s no desire or longing for our relationship to improve, I wonder why it even exists.
I’m finally back in my house, to do as I please – and the reminders that I am literally alone in this empty part of the country creep in, shadowing the gratitude I have to being home.
I’m finally able to sit down and write my story for an upcoming anthology – and nothing feels right. Nothing desires to be written. The story I am working on I am going to shelve, and see if something else comes up. I have until mid-May, surely there’s a story floating out there wishing to be told. I hope very much that it jumps into my head and allows me to bear it witness.
Story telling is my life. Without it I am nothing. My religious convictions are my life, without them I am nothing.
Today, I lie in bed – my mother tending my son, both thinking I am asleep – as my emptiness lends to the withering of my soul. I must find something to slay the beast, in order to perk my spirits! Alas, is this depression debilitating.
And I roll over, closing my eyes, wishing the world away.
onlybyyourblood 