Pray it's Never too Late

Location

46806
United States
41° 2' 45.9996" N, 85° 5' 45.8088" W

My hardships are untold; they remain in a locked safe hidden deep in the crevasses of my bosom.
They fight to get out, kicking my arteries, whispering their poisonous and tainted secrets…
The walls of steel my mind has created keeps them behind the barriers, but every once in a while…
Things not voluntarily spoken of surface, and scream aloud to the unsuspecting ears.
The tears join in as if by reflex, I never have to summon them, they are just always there.
This is a new, tangible type of pain. I can feel it, I can touch it…it speaks to me.
It screams at me, yelling horrid, disgusting things at me; it’s impossible to fight.
A struggle so misunderstood, so overlooked… understanding the complexity and immensity of my struggle and pain is impossible. So far in over my head…and I’m drowning; I cannot swim in the sea of life.
It’s like the sky, omnipresent and everlasting. It cannot be escaped nor can it be defeated, only concealed.
It cannot, will not, be suppressed or forgotten because no matter what happens it always remains.
It strives off of struggle, not just my own personal peril; my soul reaches out to others in trouble and latches on as if it is an amusement ride. I cry with them, for them, about them then the light falls on myself. So much history to remember, so little future to ponder about, so much strife fueling this…pain. No one sees it, or no one cares. It grips my mind, making me think suicide. It grips my heart, making me think suicide. Everything screams just end it. Things will be better after this life is over. I know it isn’t right…but the pain is so immense…is so deep…is so…painful, that I only seek relief. I know I will not reside in Heaven with the other fallen so I curse it. Heaven is perfection. The perfection that I seek, the perfection that I need to get away from this disappointment. My life is full of woe and because of my smile no one will ever know. Until the day arrives when it becomes apparent. It may be too late then. I hope…I pray that it will never get to be too late. Father keep your hand on me…around me…don’t let me lose this war. It’s raging...full throttle. My heart is weakening as I sit here contemplating my life. Pitying myself…I know it’s unhealthy, but what else is there for me? When there is more pain than rejoicing…it’s hard not to notice. So when the smiles are all gone, and the pain has ended, and I’m at peace…I just pray…I just pray it isn’t too late. Save me Father. Keep me in your arms…I need you.

Comments

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 CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741