Painful Waste

I feel like a god is toying with me

All my blood in my tears amount to

Nothing and any effort goes to waste

On anything and everything I want to

Be successful at! The hand knocks down

More and more grains of sand and the next thing

I know it’s the Blackest part of the night and no one

Lives on with me stranded and alone, battling my own

Brain trying to find peace in a turbulent battlefield that the

Day’s worries did nothing to alleviate. A knock on the head

And I’m back on my feet throwing out optimism in an old

Fashioned way to you and to you and to you while I am

Crying on the inside, screaming with horror and pain

Lost to the world as a plastic mask hides the only

Feelings I truly feel related to in this damnable

Land inhabited by men of loose morals

And women of lost hope. I

Want to find a reason

Here, locked in this

Pit, but it feels

Like a god is

Pushing me






This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

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