I am a writer. Therefore, I am not sane. -Edgar Allan Poe
When did your heart let me go
What was the last straw
When did I stop being yours
Was it when I stopped being me
When did you decide to leave
Was I already gone
When will you come back
I’m back to me again
When will you be coming back
Will you be coming back
Demons in my head
Get louder everyday
Only so many pills
Can be taken
To drown them out
But there’s always an echo
Of the demons in my head
Will they ever go away
Add therapy to the pills
To drown them out
But there’s always an echo
Of the demons in my head
Always an echo
Always an echo
Always an echo
Of the demons in my head
At first sight
I have been convicted
Of lacking beauty
Imprisoned to the
Corner of the room
Bled of all confidence
Seeking a reprieve
Just this once
To plead my case
Reveal the whole
Truth of my existence
The beauty
Behind these bars
Escaping one’s demons
Is far easier
With the strength of many
Who can create
A chain link of love
A ladder of compassion
And a compass of hope
I am not a victim
Of my circumstances
I am a warrior
Losing a battle
Bleeding out
From my wounded soul
I am no martyr
I am merely one
Who will fight
To the death
Even if
It shall be my own
Two voices
One body
Battling for control
One to live
The other to die
In the arena of the mind
Two voices will enter
Only one will survive
Will I have to spend
Taking pills
Talking to people
Feeling like I’ll never be enough
Will I worry about
Falling when I’m alone
Not knowing if someone
Will be there to help me
Will I be
Walking this earth alone
Unable to share my truth
With someone who understands
Will I be able to
Do this
Alone
The walls have caved in
I’m all alone
I’m on my own
The dust is thick
Hard to breathe
The weight is pushing me down
Every second I’m in this hole
What do I do
I know there’s no one coming
I can give up
Lie here
Until
My lungs
My organs
My bones
Are done
Trying to sustain me
Or can I fight
What is there to latch onto
Will the air become clear
Will I be able to move
Just an inch at a time
Do I fight
Do I give in
Is this the fate I have been designated
Or is there more
A light pulls me
Do I go
I go…
It is either
The light of the end
Or a new hope for tomorrow
It is an answer
Tell those who love you
Stop
It’s not worth it anymore
And it’s ok
You are not their problem anymore
It’s ok to let go.
Please let go.
It’s hurts to tell them that
You are tired.
That you
Have no more strength.
That you
Have no more fight left in you.
You know it hurts to hear
But as exhausted as they are
You feel that
Times 100.
They will move on
They are not weak.
Not like you are now.
Too many tears,
Too many sleepless nights,
Too much
Just too much.
The therapy,
The pills,
The hope that goes only so far.
It’s done.
You’re done.
B.A. Wilcox © 