How Far
How far down will I fall?
this is the question
while my sight gazes into the black emptiness
Do I care?
Does anyone care?
will my demise bring about tears
or will those left behind turn their backs?
As I sit crouched in this black room
with my heart pumping hate and fear
disgust and self loathing
I hate the darkness I attack it with my knife
and the blood spilt evades my sight
I scream. I cry. I rant then rave,
and long to escape to the white room
this falsehood is nothing but
a notion that turns to poison in my head
and tears my Psyche down
in a river of black, red and brown
I smash my mirrors
so they might propertly reflect me well
while I stare outwards
and am swallowed whole
I am the product of nothing, I am damaged goods
I am a failure, and a waste of time
I have suffered long enough
I am without my faith
I am abandoned to my misery
fashioning my own entrance to hell
with the blood spilt
Slowly the knife falls
then with time so I shall.
