Poetry From The Weakened Soul
Author: Neil Evans

Chapter 89

It's truly a sad lament
When you can't express yourself
Can't show your own sorrow

And when you look at your dreams
Slowly realizing, throughout the years
They're all hollow, and shall never become a reality

But what's even more depressing
Is when you're asked what keeps you here
What keeps you from taking a blade and killing yourself tonight?

And you open your mouth, ready to defend yourself
Ready to sling back, throw your ammo of the many reasons
Your jaw slams shut because there is nothing keeping you

What's keeping you alive
Is your simplistic delusions
That you shall be good, great

But you know, deep, deep down
That you can see through the delusions
You just choose not to

So I'm sitting in my room
Clutching what I have left
A bottle of poison, a piece of paper

With this note I write, I hope it's seen
That through the fog and the mist
I know I'm delusional and I'm an instigator

Don't know why I fight and live, survive
When what I have left is a cell phone
The line blinking after the words have been typed out

'I'm sorry dear one
One I loved with who I am
With what I am

But tonight's the night
That I explode, I break free
From all that made it me

I love you


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