Lying with a sodden face; back against the drowning floor;
Staring blankly through the mask you’re always wearing.
You pull a half tonne arm, drowsily across the sullen mess,
That you believe to be a life wasted in haze and loneliness.
Sinking further down, to depths unbearable for any sane mind, you realise…
You’re not sane.
Death has come for you, if not in the way you expected, and
Killed you from the inside; caused you writhing pain that only
Twists and warps your mind even lower, turning you into something
You wish no one to know… not even you.
Your languished body is home to a soul which once believed in dreams;
Once believed in life.
But you’re tired…
So you lie