Sickness

A Poem by Raquel Swann

 

As I fall beneath the shadows of my reality, one thing has become apparent.

I lay somewhere between the truth and the madness placed before me.

I need not two eyes to see that my despair has run its full course like a virus.

It flows through my veins rotting me out from the inside.

I watch as this sickness has taken over all functions. I am a slave to it.

There is no escape from the prison I have created for myself.

The keys have been smelted and dissolved. They were made into shackles.

The bars are sturdy and will not give way to any force. There is no fight left.

I can’t even muster the strength to stand up from this old rusted cot.

I can now lay here and count the days that remain in my feeble existence.

Do not look for me any longer, my will belongs to them now.

To those whose descions are thrown upon me as if they are my very own.

My best interests are yours to command. I will be the person you want me to be.

I will wear my white flag with dignity and grace. I surrender.

Who cares what I want? Who cares what I need? That is immaterial.

A war in my heart wages no longer. My weapons are dropped. I submit.

Let me be who you think I should be! Misery loves company, yet I want none.

Not you, not you, nor you. Forsake me. Call off the search parties.

The hardships of life have a created the perfect virus. Incurable. Untreatable.

Pieces of me will die a little at a time until there’s nothing left but the empty shell.

The hallow shell of a dreamless dreamer.

My eyes shall never contain the glimmer, the drive, the hope that my destiny will change.

Don’t cry for me. I won’t even shed a single tear for myself. I can’t. I don’t know how.

Advertisements