Despair

Close my eyes and linger momentarily, all just to step outside that bitter part of me, and when I hide behind a lie I've told a thousand times, in the end it's all I know. These hands, grasping out at nothing. These eyes, weight of cold despair. These lines, void in which I'm sinking. This face, never linger there. So here I stand alone, authoring a tragedy, holding on to fractured pieces of me. Open my eyes just to begin it all again, it's overwhelming, each day just like the last without an end. I know that this feeling is just a part of me. I know, I know, I know. These hands, grasping out at nothing. These eyes, weight of cold despair. Displaced, confusion ever growing. Defaced, in shadows hiding there. Distanced, from paths now less familiar. Devoid of all hope. And here I stand alone, authoring a tragedy, no one to share my descent into the black. The agony gnaws at my bones. Ever present burden that this could never be me. Somehow this pain I could not see arrived along the way, is this better than blindness? I've endured decades of living as someone else. How could this ever be me when I do this to myself? My pain is the art through which I bleed. This hurt is the burden from which I cannot be freed. An abyss, yawning maw of desolation. This pain is the force that I must heed. Chained to self doubt: an edifice of despair, I don't need your prodding I do this to myself. My pain is the art through which I bleed. This hurt is the burden from which I cannot be freed. An abyss yawning maw of desperation. Somehow this pain I could not see.