This Conceptual, Divine Life

The walls around me are closing in

and I don’t know if I can get through

to get out in time.


The shards of glass

pierce into my skin,

but I am numb to that pain.

That’s not the problem. 

That’s not what hurts.


Because really, there are no walls.

No one is operating an on and off switch

to control the doors that hold me captive.

It is my mind that allows these 

‘Walls’ to do so. 

What hurts is not being crushed by the might of the walls.

It is the not knowing.

Do I let it happen, do I let go.

Do I put on armor, do I stay strong.

Am I to control my mind,

or to allow my mind to control me.


What is scary-

what truly raises my hairs,

tempts my legs to shake

voice to break

& heart to ache-

Is how I’ve convinced myself

I do not know, when I do.

It is in my power.

The decisions are all mine to make. 


The fact is, my mind and my soul are drifting apart.

It’s a familiar feeling, as if letting go of a toxic love.

I can never truly part from this conscience.

It is within me. I am within it.

Entangled, intertwined.



My mind will always whisper,

it is my spirit that is yelling inside to myself,

begging, SHOUTING, that this is not me.

Crying for me to stop. 


My soul is the angel on my shoulder.

My mind is the devil’s workshop.


My angel is too kind to brew a war, 

yet far too strong

to allow the devil to win.

She has her own battle to overcome-

How far can she push herself

before the choice she makes

is the wrong one?

The devil has no such defining limits,

but he is not as strong as my angel’s might.


As I control them both,

they are of their own will.

They are the excuses behind the choices

that are up to me.


I am fighting both for and against my sanity.

Not knowing which will win.

It is a choice I am making.

It is a choice that has taken over every fiber of my being.

I have waged this war against myself

and I won’t pull my forces back.

I no longer know who I am.

I feel like a spectator in a fast paced moving world.


What keeps me up at night,

The cause of all this distress is

that mind over matter ceases to matter.

To keep up with my own self,

and to be at my best in the real world

is an ordeal I cannot even fathom to uphold.


Life is pain.

Life is knowledge. Art. Music. Travel. 

Philosophy. Wisdom. People. Love. 

Passion And Truth.

I wonder if the pain I feel is to the point 

that all my blessings are overlooked.

If this is the case,

I have dug myself in a hole 

deep as the bullet to my head,

from my dreams, would’ve left.


I am ungrateful. 

I am stuck.

I am lost, confused, terrified.

But, of what?

I ask myself this 

and swear it is everything.

It isn’t.


Pain is a feeling of thought materialized by one’s own will.

I do not want to die.

This much I admit.

But do I want to live?

Going day by day, battling through countless hardships, waiting

for the light at the end of the tunnel.


If I leave today, would the light welcome me with open arms, 

or would I dissolve into 

dark nothingness?

Eliminating all the goodness,

as price of my weakness.


All I know is this, 

           I am here for now.

I am not one to experiment.


I have yet to experience 

Falling in love.


Attaining glorious success defined by 

infinite happiness, peace, and prosperity.


I often wonder if God intends for these privileges to ever manifest in my life.

Therefore, I am stuck

pondering the point of it all,

if I am not destined to reach

the height of life’s greatness.


I remain looking at the world through a dark, worn down, tunnel with cracks that hint an eventual landslide.

Life will collapse around me someday, and with it I will crumble-

or beat it by making the first move.


To beat myself up raw, or to allow

the universe to do so.




I may be my own worst enemy as my friends, teachers, and therapists say.

They may know me better than I know myself.

After all, I’m the one writing in order to connect with my true being, raw soul, and vital spirit-

to remember who I once was.


I am NOT myself. 

And I haven’t been for a while.

But, who else could I be?


Perhaps this is the turning point.

The revelation,

That defines my being.

Have I really ever been myself?

Or am I myself now 

that I have collided with life’s realities.


I have opened myself up to the world,

my vulnerabilities, fully exposed.

I would never have imagined the people I pour my heart out to would be the same to rip it to shreds and step on it.

They can try to apologize

for inflicting such wounds.

But once you burn paper, 

can you ever piece it back together?


I do not self-pity.

But right in this moment,

I feel remorseful 

for putting others before me,

in order to fulfill my ingrained desire

of pleasing people.

Who am I to this world?

A babysitter of the emotions

felt by others,

or a caretaker of my own spirit?


I am the angel.

I am the devil.

My two worlds often cross each other’s paths.


You see, my mind is thin ice,


on a floating river.

There is a waterfall at this river’s end.

And it is up to me to catch up to it,

coming at it with full force

in order to reclaim my sacred soul,

about to fall.


As I run, a heavy backpack with tight straps, bounces up and down

my aching back.

In this bag, I carry with me:

Fear. Self doubt. Regret. Anxiety. Depression. 

I feel as though I must run with these burdens,

allowing them to cling

unto my bare, broken, body.


The straps won’t come off. 

Except maybe they can if I try hard enough.

The question is, will I?




If I give up now,

I am allowing this black cloud that hovers over me

To snatch me into its tight clutch.


To take today’s shortcomings

as gospel truth to predict my fate,

would be the action of a fool.

I am many things, I do admit.

But this title I do not claim.

With this in mind, I can truthfully say,


“I won’t let these feelings define me.

I am yet to learn who I am and what I am capable of.”



-Life is worth it all. I promise you.













This poem is about: 
My family
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741