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Fallen

I am adrift,
My soul is churning,
And the bloody mess of delicate petals in my palm,
Disintegrating, leaking to the floor,
Innocence squandered.

Who are you?
Someone that is trying to anchor me
Who are you? 
A beacon in the night guiding me to safety,
You do not know me,
Yet you try to save me,
Years have gone by and still,
My name on your lips is as unfamiliar to me as the day your lips touched mine,


You are holding me up,
If you let go I will fall to ground,
And remain there,

My life lies around me in puzzle pieces,
And 
Each so complex the one piece cannot by any form of manipulation
Fit another,
Each day brings with it,
A new haunting thought,
A new battle to fight,
Each mental demon is stronger than the former,
Each created and fed by my own twisted logic,


The black walls,
Are as suffocating as the noose would be around my neck,
These black walls crowding me,
Pushing me into myself,
Standing high around me,
Its shadows marring the brightness I could have seen,
A stain upon the surface off my existence,
Seeping into my veins and poisoning me,

Restlessness in my sleep,
I try to lay down and rest,
But I am plagued,
A million thoughts and all screaming to be heard,
A ticking time bomb,
Only time will reveal the damage

Panic rushing through me,
Gripping me,
Holding me prisoner,
If I move forward the pressure rises,
If I stay put I might as well bleed these veins dry,
And the past lingers always, mistakes,
A domino effect chasing at my every step,

How bloody my hands have become,
Streaks off crimson that will never fade,
These scars –my war wounds
I trace a finger across the puckered skin,
How sad a life could this be?

Sad enough to be the fallen,
Sad enough that the tears I once cried,
Are stuck in my throat and refuse to rise up and fall,
Sadness so deep and profound that the tears no longer do it justice,
A great winding path off misery that leads me on my journey-

Of

Beginnings and endings
I ended before I began,
This end is long though…


Do not tell me to pick myself up,
Do not tell me to make a decision,
All is as is,
Wasted,
Useless,
Impossible,

A pessimist?
No,
By all means never an optimist,
But the pieces do not fit,
Each is so crooked and broken,
That a realist is all I can be,

Realities off bloody palms,
Shadowing walls,
And silver scars,
No way out,
Just a battle that wages on,
Created by me,
Fed by me,
Never overcome by me…
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