My  legs begin to break, i walked this path for far too long, my lungs, they start to ache, but still i’m carry on. I’m choking on my words like i got a noose around my neck. I can’t believe it’s come to this, and i fear, i fear, that the end is near. I fear that the fear is ending tonight.
I fear this is the end, this happens all the time, this happens every day,
But I never seem to quit.
I can’t stop the bleeding, and it’s only getting worse, this happens all the time
This happens every day
But I never seem to quit.
Only the dead have seen the end of this fight.
1 comment
I don’t know if this is meant to be a poem. Honestly, I’ve never really gotten into poems that much, but I find that your words have meaning to me. Although things seem very dark at the present moment, I found myself enjoying your short passage. I rarely enjoy anything, so thank you for the temporary diversion.
What I took away:
“The fear that the fear is ending tonight”. At times I feel so close to the final act that the fear of following through almost supersedes the fear of death and the unknown. After all, I can’t take it back. I practice often and even find comfort in going through the motions so I know if and when I’m ready, Ill know what to do.
I never quit because I love the people who love me far more than I love myself. I am nearing the end of being able to wake up the next day on that factor alone. Nothing gets better. When do I decide I can no longer wait one more day? I so desperately want to quit…
“Only the dead have seen the end of this fight”. Those who have struggled and saw no other way to end their fight, have finally found a way to not hurt anymore. I envy them.
I am not sure exactly why but this spoke to me, but it made me feel as though there was someone out there with a similar thought process. As if I was able to speak to you I wouldn’t have to hide my true feelings about my suicide. I felt less alone. Thanks again.