Dear Death
*discusses death/depression*
Dear death, receive me, for I am not longed for this world.
I, like broken glass, have been crushed;
irreconcilably incomplete, destitute and alone.
*
No matter my efforts, my body betrays me,
and when evil knocks at my door,
in my haste and desperation, it enters in.
*
Each day is shrouded in darkness,
like an ever-hanging cloud;
my mind a broken tape, stuck on continual replay.
*
I still hold out hope, worn thin, after years of worsening health,
that none will help fix.
Am I too broken to be fixed? Will no-one even try?
*
Each time I seek help it is like a path that reaches a sudden dead end,
under the cover of night I recede back, losing my way into depression,
which I fear, each time, will devour me whole.
*
I hear my soul cry ‘Death, sweet death, receive me’.
Each day this plea screams louder.
But there is no honour, nor peace, in death,
*
It is not right to take my life before its time.
So I find myself praying ‘oh God, please save me’.
‘Lord, how much longer, how much longer till I am free?’.
07.21.2021
Copyright © Charlotte Watkins | Year Posted 2021
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