Poem: Am I To Blame? – 05/06/20

By the skin of my teeth,
the scraping of my nails,
I’m fighting for escape,
freedom from this personal hell.
 
How did I get here?
Perchance, do you think
I even know?
 
The aching and the longing,
the pain, this vivid suffering,
guttural shrieks,
I’m alone,
but not completely by myself.
 
For these dull thoughts,
their lack of rambling,
their mind-dulling medications,
 
my blurred, stunted abilities,
no longer independent,
only permitted a stupor
behind elders and staff
I am meant to be following.
 
No bright sparks,
my light,
my synapses have been capped,
 
I’m disgusted with myself,
the mental apathy,
physical lumbering 
I show and have within,
the aftermath.
 
Is it my fault?
Because I went off meds?
Seeking that glorious manic high,
to ride those ecstatic waves,
is there a suitable alibi?
 
For eventually, I plummeted,
deep despair,
I could barely swim,
coagulating sin,
what have I done,
the wreckage before me:
life’s comical misery.
 
And I wallow
in the blackest, languid part of me,
is this what they call barely living?
My mood, my pace, my life,
simply crawling?
 
The prince and princess fled in my tale,
only grimy kingdoms
are where my soul has been called,

the hollowing,
never-ending emptiness,
this gnawing depressive hell,
for the former intensity of my world
I plead and I beg and I wail.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Anemone123 from Pixabay

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