Homelessness
part 1
Vacant
I can’t seem to find a way out.
Lost
I can’t hold onto anything, living as I am, in this reality.
Lonely, Petty, Worthless.
The Adventure is gone from this.
I have been forgotten in this powerless vacuum of hopelessness.
This
is my life, passing in front of me.
This
is some tragic hell.
Finally a chance, to do something, to be something…
now lower than I’ve ever been.
In an instant.
My question: Is this the death I worried about for so long?
I’d always thought I’d know.
I’d always hoped I’d have the courage not to fester in this meaningless world.
But here I am, at the bottom, can’t sink anymore, and I can’t admit what seems all to obvious:
Suicide.
Out, finding a place to crash. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just a spot, to be alone, to be able
not to care.
Just Be.
I just won’t cry.
I’ll try to exist though tomorrow.
I’ll try not to think about running back home, a place where I don’t have to worry about where I can sleep.
or about how I’m going to eat.
I just can’t let this make me cry.
My only solace is that it can’t get any worse.
Doldrum days spent pleading for a windmill hope.
I’ll try not to cry.
There is no room for tears, here.
I look into my vacant eyes and search for myself behind them but I have become a hollow shell.
This weight, the weight of my current life is crushing me.
I am crumbling, falling; I am about to cease.
I have lost my life but I will not allow my tears to morn me.
Everything I’ve known is on a tedious fulcrum of fading hope.
I should not breath.
I should be dead.
The world continues around me, the way I used to see it, with the putrid stares at the hobbled being that was me and though I fight, and though I curse, the grimace that I wear is tears that I must cry.
The world continues around the broken, weeping boy that I have become.