Lapse

I fail to remember,
when this journey began.
Can barely recall the first walk,
or the first time I ran.

My feet wore out,
somehow the heart seemed to ache.
Should I even rest,
when there are so many steps to take?

My knees begin to buckle,
does this mean I have to crawl?
Chin on the cold, hard bottom,
is there meaning in struggle at all?

Define a specific purpose,
set all these worldly goals.
If ambition is truly fruitful,
show me how the path unfolds.

My body has been scraped,
trying to make two ends meet.
Comfort is a distant dream,
true happiness I’ve yet to greet.

Each day brings hope,
that is crushed and bound to doom.
Rainbows wither before my eyes,
as the sky slowly falls to gloom.

“Carpe diem,” is what they say,
but that is such a lie.
Barely holding on to an inch of life,
waiting for your turn to die.

A good life is around the corner,
crawl left towards the next bend.
If each day is a new beginning,
I only wish to meet my end.

Hara-Kiri

I take this knife,
and pull it closer to my chest.
Maybe in the afterlife,
I’ll find a place where I can rest.

Nobody gets this pain,
and no one can understand.
It slips through their fingers,
like tiny grains of sand.

I am alone in this vile prison,
that’s dissecting every inch of me.
Cut open and helpless,
yet everyone refuses to see.

These feelings are raw,
intense thoughts that no one can accept.
Crawling on bloodied broken glass,
stomped by the feet of neglect.

Each moment is a struggle,
tainted by suffering and pain.
Breaking the cranium,
swallowing the brain.

There is no escape,
happiness and peace are distant dreams.
A smile to mask turmoil,
to keep it hidden underneath the seams.

Every day is the same,
there’s no running away from yourself.
Nobody to hold your hand,
and no one who can truly help.

“It will get better,”
is something they will all say.
But deep down inside you know,
that death is the only way.

Nascent

I can’t wait to see your eyes,
and show them things they’ll never forget.
You’ll see things that you love,
and those that you’ll regret.

I can’t wait to hold your hands,
they’ll be so soft and tender.
A warm touch of innocence,
before which all would surrender.

I wish to see your first steps,
following you from the time you crawl.
I’ll always be by your side,
to catch you when you fall.

I wonder what your first words will be,
I wonder how you’ll sound.
Patiently I’ll listen to your voice,
I’ll always be around.

I can’t wait to hear your dreams,
and witness all your choices.
Would you fight your demons,
or succumb to your vices?

I want to hear your heart beat,
I wish to hold you near.
But there was no pounding,
and I was struck with fear.

I wished to do so much,
and so much I wished to say.
But my fate is cursed by demons,
for bitter circumstances took you away.

Origin

It was out of my reach,
slipping farther away,
with the last nail on the coffin,
there wasn’t much to say.

If I said something sooner,
or if I had taken a stand,
things would be different,
and not lines in the sand.

If things were normal,
I wonder how I’d grow.
Would you play with me,
and teach me how to throw?

Would you sit by my bed,
and tell me a story?
When I’d come home late,
would you worry?

Would you slap me,
if I was drunk?
Does it even matter?
This ship’s sunk.

For there was no one,
to show me right from wrong.
I was lost all the time,
not knowing where I belong.

So I followed your footsteps,
down that empty road,
right behind the bottle,
and the illusions it showed.

Darkness was your gift to me,
a blessing I embraced.
Crawling into the shadows,
where my feelings were erased.

I reached unfathomable depths,
that no one had before.
With this insatiable ambition,
to new heights I would soar.

But would you be proud,
or bow your head in shame?
Would you deem me victor or villain?
For me, it’s all the same.

Maybe I didn’t care,
even pretending is such a lie.
If only I wasn’t so cold,
you wouldn’t have to die.

Desolation

We are drawn to sadness,
like moths to a bright light.
Writhing in emptiness,
like silent whispers of the night.

Chasing it helplessly,
like a child after an unrealistic dream.
Waking up alone at night,
with no one to hear us scream.

Our voices bounce,
off the walls of our loneliness,
seeking comfort,
in the crevices of hopelessness.

But this pain is an ally,
the only friend we have known.
Invoked by digging deep into the scabs,
of the seeds that we have sown.

We thrive on this solitude,
like heathens on ignorance,
like gods in a temple,
to fools bowed in reverence.

This is not a woeful curse,
but an augmented state of mind,
a drug that elevates,
an ecstasy of another kind.

It is in this excruciating sadness,
that great minds often thrive.
For those who’ve died a thousand deaths,
know what it’s like to feel alive.