Therapy’s been fine but it’s not fixing my problems.

Each week talking about something new, but we never actually solve them.

Mr. Joyce tells me I need to let my emotions pass through me.

But my emotions make me who I am, so I know I need to disagree.

My identity has always been important and, honestly, I identify as depressed.

That as well as anxious, lost, and always stressed.

So maybe that makes me too scared to actually fix these issues,

I don't want to be happy, I just want to grip a box of tissues.

I recognize that’s no way to live, and I’ve made my decision.

I burned my friends and family one last time as an act of rescission.

I’ve said it many times before, so I know there’s no reason to believe,

But I think I’ve hurt them enough so I know that they will not grieve.

I fought these demons for far too long and I had a pretty great run.

But the pain inside keeps getting worse and I know that I am done.

Lasting this long was the greatest of my accomplishments,

But the only thing that gets me through now is ingesting intoxicants.

I’m getting my affairs in order, and I apologize to those I hurt,

But the pain I caused will make it easier for me to desert.



◄ Burn

What's Next? ►


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M.C. Newberry

Sun 29th Sep 2019 15:08

I'm hopeful this is beneficial for WOL
purposes of the imagination being invigorated and inspired beyond the parameters of humdrum existence. Poetry has long been a remedial resort for the
mind and has produced results for both writer and reader alike. The likes of Blake
and Clare come to mind. Let the magic of words make their presence felt to allow
the mind to take us on a journey in this life. It is the least we can do and we owe it to each other via that gift of life..

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