Losing My Will

Standard

The deepest pain,
with no beginning and no end,
inherited and bequeathed
generation to generation,
arrived at my doorstep
packaged neatly—
and I was tricked
into accepting it as mine.
What now?
Trapped in the abyss
so dark I cannot see my hands
reaching ahead of me,
I’m tripping, stumbling,
trying to find one tiny glimmer of hope,
trying to find a reason to keep going.
A prisoner of my mind
I cannot see past the immediate
feeling of suffocation,
cannot feel past the ocean of grief
that keeps pulling me under,
and under again.
The unrelenting waves mock my struggle;
they keep coming and laughing,
knowing that eventually I’ll lose my will to fight.

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