Decade Old Boat
tw suicidal ideation
My mind’s fading to dark grey again.
I’m like a boat drifting in the storm, struggling above the waves for a second just to go right back under again.
I’ve been like this since I was six.
Why does death feel
So much closer than before?
It used to be something I wished for
But I knew I would never try to reach it.
I’m not so sure.
I lost belief in God when I was young.
No matter how hard I sobbed into my pillow
No matter how fervently I prayed
No matter how many times I tried to suffocate
He wouldn’t let me die
So my faith did instead.
Now here I am again.
Curled up on the shower floor
Weak prayers falling from my lips
Pleading to surrender to the darkness of sleep.
I don’t want your pity, your worry, your “it’ll get better. Trust me.”
I want to know why I’m like this.
Why have I always thought I’m worthless and stupid and useless and someone no one wants to speak to or see or notice?
Maybe then the storm will break.
Maybe then the boat will stay afloat.
Maybe then enduring sunlight will shine upon its bow.
Copyright © Incipient Poet | Year Posted 2022
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