An Epitaph to my Former Self

 

There are times in life

Where the pieces of the puzzle

Fit like clockwork

And you come to realise

That things are exactly

How they seem

And everything you wished you knew

Just starts to fall apart.

It’s not like you want to care

But you have to

When the ones you love

Are in the firing line.

Pride is their biggest obstacle,

And anger is yours.

Everyone is telling you

What you’re seeing is not

Just ‘in your head’

Apart from the villain

Of this chapter

Of your memoir.

You are finding it hard

To hold your tongue

But you have to

For fear

Of the consequences.

But what you are finding

To be increasingly frustrating

Is the fact you are paranoid

That people are looking

Into your eyes

Knowing what you don’t.

Revelling in your

Unwanted and unintentional

Ignorance.

that has been forced upon

Your shoulders

With unrelenting force

By those to claim

To “care”.

In reality

All they care about is themselves

While you are left picking up the broken pieces

Of the broken mirror that is you.

They leave you to fall down

The rabbit hole.

At the bottom

Is a pit of misery

And spikes.

My mind is not immortal

And is about to be

Vanquished.

For thirteen years I have

been a victim

Of depression.

My mind is not immortal

And is about to be

Vanquished.

Trapped in an infinate web

Of lies and deceit.

Caught up in non-political politics.

Stuck between the depression and manic stages

That make up my

Rock-and-a-hard-place.

My mind is not immortal.

And is about to me

Vanquished.

Vanquished

Of all innocence -

Of all guilt -

Of all anger -

Of all pain…

Of you.