With tightening of the chest
And the restriction of breaths
It is cruel in its dogged pursuit.
Tag: Mental Health
-
-
My cross is heavy. Tired, I drag it slowly; navigating hidden paths to avoid those that may try to hurt me. In the darkness of the night with blood and heavy sweat I stumble and fall on one knee. Splinters of weathered wood tear into me. My cross is heavy but it is mine to carry; looking back with tears in the wind I see, and hear the moans and cries of those just like me. In droves we walk slowly, and carry on in pain; blood drips on snow, dirt, grass, concrete and open road, and is washed away by rain. Bloodshot eyes are teary and filled with rage. In the book of tears with millions of chapters and soiled with blood, I angrily write another page.
-
The eyes that hide the hell inside
Are with disdain just cast aside,
For deep inside it thus abides
And causes fear and sudden cries.For people look and wide they stare.
The worst of them with hating glare.
If long enough in the eyes they look,
It is then with shock they see the tearful book. -
Tears spill on paper as the anguished write final letters.
Eyes stare up at beautiful bright moonlight on a clear night,
As warm blood turns cold in the snowy winter. -
We survive, but we have yet to live. Drained of blood and tears we wearily march with valiant hearts through the darkest night by lamplight, holding high our banners of war with nothing left to give.
-
In the final act, illness is unveiled in its true ugliness, raw hideousness, and utter mercilessness; when blood flows from open veins and the eyes from behind which it lies, are bloodshot and teary from torment and unceasing cries.
-
In illness the emaciated and anguished take painfully slow steps in darkness.
The quiet torment of loneliness captures and devastates in its stillness.
-
With tears, heavy hearts and labored breaths
They live somewhere in-between life and death. -
Awakened and the nightmare begins
Daily life must be lived
But the anguished have nothing left to give
Unwanted thoughts torment the anxious
Irrationality becomes their reality
Depression consumes in totality
The body is willing but the mind is perpetually spinning
Eyes well up with tears for seemingly no reason
To the world the pain is hard to explain
In dark rain the distressed can be heard fervently praying
If you listen closely to their whispers you can hear them saying:
Dear God, I wish I had another brain
I can’t live another day with dark clouds over me, and cold rain
What did I do to deserve this pain?
Let me live again and free me from these chains. -
Afflicted and anguished voices cry out in darkness
Tears and ceaseless sorrow are the torment of illness
The tired and exhausted desire peace and stillness
It is unrelenting with unforgiving torment and viciousness
In its approach it is particularly ruthless and merciless
Still they fight passionately and defiantly until their last breath.
Intimate Compositions 