Twenty six

He was just one of 
those poetic nightmares
that made my words spill
down the pages.

you’re just one
of those poems
that won’t commit
suicide.

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Between life and death

again and again on my knees

broken by those who should help me stand

not sad nor happy in this life

forgotten

 

fallen

 

and getting up

again

again and again

every time

after every fall

more determined to keep standing

more desperate to avoid another

fall

 

depression doesn´t hurt

it´s beyond limits of sadness

beyond any other feeling known by mam

 

why?

being alive is too hard

there are easier ways around

 

why to stand up after fall?

 

standing

stubbornly holding on worthless things

patiently crying when no one hears

broken pieces glued together

by what?

 

life

 

effort testing limits of strength

buying time to find more will

forgetting to smile

what did it feel like

for the last time?

 

and again

 

falling