(a treatise on self-rejection)
i'm so dragged and drugged - bedraggled. Sigh.
So filled with malaise, boneless am i.
Useless, formless, senseslessly sad i be.
No longer myself, 'cause people know me
to always be cheery and smiling, i know.
The facade i put up each day is pure show
that's fooling myself and others - depressed.
Repressed, suppressed and if you think less
of me, it would be nice to settle deep within
a comfortable coma, no expectations to win.
No responsibilities, just lie quiet, be still
and then reality hits - as it persistently will.
i should take medication, but why even try?
Physically, mentally - and emotionally i cry.
Spiritually i argue with myself so doleful
but i cannot refrain - i'm just drawn to that hole
of quicksand sucking me deeper into self pity.
i look deeper inside, and it's not very pretty.
It would be so easy to yield. Is this really a sin
or a fault, not a true life that is seeking to win
escape from the norm, from the ordinary path?
An avoidance of reality i hide with a laugh?
To hide from unpleasantness of my own creation,
i've sat and i've grieved with no expectation.
i can't think of anything else, 'cause you see -
this stranglehold i have thrown around me
seeks no true solution - so i piteously cry:
"Dear LORD - please save me! Lest I actually die!"