Fighting with fragile strength the voice of that child,
Emcompassed in tears and pain, disowned by denial.
Yet she drives my adult self to long for those arms
to envelop her, mother her, and shield her from harm.
Delusions of sanity only spur on the depression
to tear through my soul with a hateful agression.
I know I am beyond this, I have moved on from here.
Yet the depression pervades my prison of fear.
Living back in the then, neglecting the now.
Trying to scream, but not knowing how.
Clambering, clawing to set myself free.
Fuck it, I cant, my prison is me.
Back inside I flee, into the mind I delve.
Forsaking my self for the sake of my selves.
Shrink in my corner, defiled and disgraced;
allowing another to take on my face.
Gentle murmur of voices lull me to peace.
From my duties in life, I am slowly released.
Sense of purpose and surviving slowly fades,
Replaced with a plan, a poison and blades.
I push to the fore and contrive my demise,
Ignoring my selves and the outpouring cries.
Armed with the purpose and clarity I craved,
I stopped fighting and rested, I took to my grave.
The pain, the horror, the aloneness and grief,
The nightmares, the flashbacks swept away by relief.
She of many faces, in the end had just one
On which she wore a smile, content she was done.