The Choice is Mine
A Journey from Inner Darkness to Slightly Less Darkness
I knock on the door
And guess who answers? —
No one.
Not a single soul.
But the pain is far too great —
And the choice is mine, right?
To make that cut,
or not.
The choice is mine,
To take that drink,
or not.
The choice is mine,
To swallow those pills,
or not.
The choice is mine, right?
To die?
Or not?
Surely, I cannot think;
Hate fills my brain
Where thought should reside.
Surely, I cannot eat;
Hate fills my stomach
Where food should fill.
Surely, I cannot love;
Hate fills my heart
Where blood should pump free.
Surely, I cannot live;
Hate fills my being
Where life should be booming.
I knock on the door,
And guess who answers? —
Hope.
And it’s a damn good thing.
About the Creator
The Couch Poet
Just an NJ based poet writing about the human condition - my human condition. Hope you can relate!
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