Lost Cause
My past is permanent
ink on my skin;
cuts that scar my body.
Pain flowing like an
endless river,
always fading to gray.
Foggy skies appear as the
memories in the clouds begin to
fall from my tear ducts, dripping
onto the pure white sheets where
I lay suffering.
I stare at a familiar face,
severe pain
in her glossy light brown eyes.
Memories resurface, reminding
me
it's not over.
The cold shower ritual returns,
creating a sense of
loneliness as the
minor keys penetrate
into my aching soul.
The blood is flooding the
floor I stand upon, my
legs then descent.
Bruised kneecaps now holding the
weight of my misery,
I sob.
The tears start to flow
faster than the water
rolling down my spine, and
cuts seemingly
deeper each glance I take.
My hand covers my mouth,
holding in all the
pain I so dearly need to release.
My chest burning,
head pounding,
body aching.
I lean my head onto the
stone cold tile as I await a call
I knew would not come.
I dry the mistaken water
droplets off my face and
acknowledge a
red rainstorm of regret
rolling down my thighs.
The sound of music
stops abruptly and the
remaining discolored water
whirlwinds down the drain.
Detached from reality,
I prepare to
open the door
into a life no longer feasible.
Before my departure, I stare at my
reflection and say, "you're okay."
I was not.
I would never be;
my demons
told me so.