My Abyss

The pen has run dry
It which used to write gaily
Now writes words of sorrow
Words of unhappiness

The pen is not at fault
My hand has control
It is the problem
Writing of terrible sadness

My hand is not at fault
I am at fault
I do such things
Writing of them is a side-effect

A side-effect of sin
Of horrible time management
And poor will-power
How will I escape

The hole I've dug
Shear walls of wrongs
Of mistakes and sins
Of greed and lust

One hope remains
The light at the tar of my pit
He waits for me with open arms
But how do I get out?

The only thing I've accomplished
Is digging a deeper hole
The shovel is easier to use
Than to attempt to climb

I mount an atack on the wall
It falls upon me
I become compressed
The walls are heavy

Failure. I exist to fail.
The weight is too great
My breath leaves myself
I begin to suffocate

My suffocation complete
I die in my hell
My hell of mistakes and sin
Of self-destruction
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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August 19, 2008 at 5:34 PM
This is a powerful and emotional poem. Much to think about here. We all dig ourselves holes at times. The secret is to climb back out. Thank you for taking time to comment on my poem. Best wishes with your writing. Karen
Preece Avatar
July 25, 2008 at 8:00 PM
that's a really good poem
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