Poetry: ‘End Of My Rope’

Graphic Eva Wilson

Sometimes it can be hard

To see the light

To smell the flowers

To listen to the bard


Wallowing in that chasm

The explosion of silence

When it's louder in my head than outside

Not something I was able to fathom


Until it has made its great return

That familiar embrace

A cold blanket with rough feel

And doubt so strong you burn


When the skull becomes a void

A limitless gap

The horizon hidden in shroud

Perspective destroyed


Is this all it is

Brief ecstasy

With an inevitable comedown

All of it going to piss


Each day to rise and shine

Following the script layed out

A series of chores

I’m in the rat race acting like it's fine


The counters are expected

Everyone feels like that sometimes

It's just part of growing up

But alas I'm still affected


I get up and try not to forget to hope

Knowing the lows allows for the highs

Remembering that I'll miss it when I'm gone

‘Cause I'm not yet at the end of my rope

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