Dear dearly beloved,
It's me, again.

I'm sorry for the
Pain and sorrow.

I just want to let
You all know that

There's only
So much lower
I can go.

There's a bullet
With my name on it,

But I don't want
To pull the trigger.

I promise I'm not a quitter,
But I'm far from
Being a winner.

I'm always pulled in
Every direction,

And I feel I fail
Every time, stepping
In the wrong direction.

It's hard to compartmentalize
And section my emotions,

I'm always one step away
From jumping off a ledge,
And it's getting harder

Just to hold on.

Dear dearly beloved,

Pray that I make it through,

So my soul doesn't get
Crushed by the weight
Of the world,

And delivered to the underworld.

Seasons are changing,
life never ends
but here we are

Starting over again.

It used to be
simple then,

Relying on us
relying on you.

Now it's just me,
Wondering what could
have been,

And just trying
to get through.

Seasons are changing,
life never ends,

and I'm writing
to let you know

I'm okay with
being friends,

As long as I'm not
left alone without you.

If life is a living hell,
And living is a privilege,
Then surviving is a show-and-tell
Of who’s got the most,
And it’s never the ones struggling
To stay afloat.

If this is hell,
Then what can be worse than this?
Who really wins when it’s all
Make-believe and pretend?

The rich get richer,
And we all keep drowning in debt,
Expected to just take it.

Plans change,
It’s nothing strange.

People come,
Then they leave.

Like a carousel,
or a revolving door,

The ones we loved
come and go as
they please.

There’s no need
to worry, no need
to be torn.

It’s just that

We outgrew the
ones we thought
we knew,

And only holding on
to a select few.

It’s nothing we
did,

It’s not what we
chose.

It’s just the
realization

that part of
growing up

is finding who
we are too.

always the same
and never the better

you run a fool’s game,
always playing with
the lever.

ready to pull down,
ready to go,

the deepest
pockets of your mind,
an ebb and flow.

misery loves company,
at least one more
this time

always cyclical, and round
and round you go,

emotional chaos
that you hope to
control

but the storm’s ragin’
and you’re comfortable

with a little rain
sometimes

because you know
stories aren’t told
without a little
suffering sometimes.

Here we go again.

Another poem focused
on the past, focused on
sins.

Another stanza of a
pain so deep inside,
that there’s no way out
from within.

Days go by and it never left,
Depression, obsession, and
a little possession,

It’s demonic,
and not right.

But suffering
never ends.

Breathe. Inhale. Live. Die.

Smoke and mirrors,
all the time.

Here we go again.

Another poem,
another line,

Written and signed

By the artist who lost
the will to live and survive.

It doesn’t have to be this way,
It’s not as hard as you imagined
it all to be.

There are hills, and obstacles in
the way, but persistence is key—

Prevailing is the best way
to not fall in a state so freely.

It’s all about faking your way,
And ******* it up, until you
grow so numb, because nothing
else matters—

Nothing else matters anymore.

It’s a hard road ahead, and you’re
the greatest enemy that you
could ever meet.

An enemy you could only
defeat.

But you’ve yet to stand up
for yourself, and you end up
getting torn,

A person left in shatters,
oh-so forlorn.