It’s here again. Surging through every vein. Like fire… burning, raging, red-hot, out of control.
Tis the season. For what? Sadness, listlessness, giving up? Nope. Perpeptual hope. Ha. Hope is for the optimistic, the carefree, the unbroken.
Hope is not for me. Hope for a cure, a means to ease, an end to suffering. Hope is for the foolish.
I wish I could believe. In something. Anything. But I don’t. I can’t. The pain crashes reality around me. It cuts short any belief or hope. Just a burden of pain wraps around me, keeping me safe.
I am safe in the pain. I know who I am. I know when to stop. Take it away and who will I be? The possibility is limitless. Of the burdens I would be free.
I do not know. I will not know. I am emsconsed in the pain It is me. I am it. Let me go, enough to sleep. This stranglehold you cannot keep It is not fair, and I need to sleep. Let me go, lest I weep.
Lay my head down to rest. Insomnia is a test. One I will not best. I’m burning up. The fire has begun. This is a war I have not won.
My pleas for release are unheard. My silence grows stronger and my body becomes weaker. Help me, can’t you see? I’m not me. I am not free.
The chains this pain wraps around me, drowns and pulls and tugs and hurts… I am fed up. My fight is gone.
Please. Just let me sleep.