I shut it down 
when it gets too loud 
and I go back 
underground. 

I feel it like a thud, 
dull but hollow,  
loud and shallow. 
I wallow, I bellow. 
I hope, I hope 
then I damn the hope 
down the hole,

throw the rope. 

I’m afraid, 
afraid of my brain, 
afraid of the rain, 
my pain, 
the words on the page,
the ever growing rage, 
the crushing despair, 
the hate. 

No more, no more 
can I take. 

Give it now, 
I want my fate, 
my final dance, 
my last chance 
to make my mark, 
to play my card.

©JMCole