Stolen Laughter & Suicide.

Passion left.

Waving goodbye to the shadows behind.

& Perpetual Pain.

They say grow up.

& now I’m old.

Things don’t change too quickly.

I feel the time

Which echoes around.

The walls remain my silent friends.

Doors are shut & the curtains drawn.

I cannot go out.

My mind drags me back.

Mental frustration explodes as the world laughs out

& I sit & hide. In here.

Once I was god. But now a broken wreck.

I see your face. & friends persist.

But the long hours of solitude emphasise

The defeat I hold as mine.

Sure, crowd me in a room & watch me fall.

Watch me run or see me crack.

& you will know that I am still, a broken man.

The world still hates me & I regret

The illusions that I once believed in.

I spend my time just waiting. Dying. Thinking.

I cannot achieve, I cannot work.

I cannot accomplish nor concentrate.

Perhaps you only see me as a lazy son of bitch.

But I have a job & I know some folk quite well.

But no-one knows the secret darkness into which I crash & burn.

My mind is heavy & I’m tired now.

The smiles you see are aggrandised self delusions.

Dreams into which I sink my mind. Focus some say.

& I am better when I do not think.

But then I awake. & breathe.

& the pain comes back.

& the cycle repeats.

Yes, I wish I could be.

An island of tranquility.

~ An Honest Letter & enough said.

© Ed Simkins