That's the problem with feeling like a waste of space
these feelings of worthlessness follow no rationale
they are not easily confronted in such a weakened state
and of course weakness comes from far too much drowning
too much dulling of the present so as to avoid the past.
It does seem an endless loop of making a little progress
only to slip back, feeling the strength of the undertow
giving in to the tidal force, being swept out of my depth
and even seeing the shore receding doesn't matter enough
to make me want to ... even try to swim. I want to be lost.
I want to disappear and become the nothing I feel I am
and the strength of this wanting is quite scary in a way
the handholds I rely on seem less certain at times like this
the things I've learnt about positive thinking seem puerile
the dark clouds gather and some part of me welcomes them.
For this is familiar territory to me, a known landscape
of featureless days followed by stretches of sleeplessness
where my minor concerns grow to huge, massive proportions
in those long lonely hours between the darkness and light
where sleep descends but too late, a new day must be borne.
The gradual weakening escalates further with the continuance
of what-he-did dreams making nightmares seem like child's play
and which leave me shaking in damp sheets come the cool dawn
when I try to gather some semblance of the normal facade
something to hide the distress, attempt to keep it all at bay.
Where the dark clouds come from I can't really say for sure
but even seeing them building I haven't yet found a way
to run away towards the sunshine, I can't sense the direction
I can't turn the right way, when turning I see only clouds
anyway I don't have the energy to run so I lie down and wait.
In the background is this relentless feeling of not rightness
and even on the sunny days there is an element of it there
but in the darker days and nights it feels an inevitability
that this pattern will never really be broken regardless of me
so hopelessness descends to keep company with worthlessness.
All seems dark and bleak, if I trust my feelings here I'll stay
and this is where feelings are not to be given free reign
this is when choice becomes such a potent weapon against despair
if only one can work up the tiniest spark of the energy needed
to light that small flame of hope, of patience, of perseverance.
The dark clouds can be pushed back, they do not have to engulf me
or if they do, I don't have to do nothing, I needn't submit
despite the lure of slipping once more into that inky black water
I do have choices, there are things I can and must try to do
and there it is .. that spark .. the very essence of my struggle.
Floral oil painting with red blooms opening
3 hours ago