Defeated

This poem I wrote when I was in a very dark place in my life. So much was going on that I felt overwhelmed. As I re-read it, I remember those dark times and how all felt so hopeless. Thank God I’m out of that place and now I can look back and see just how far I fell into the darkness and depression. I remember wondering who would even care if I still existed, who would even notice my absence. I was alone, I was tired and I was on the brink of giving up.

I’m so tired of always fighting,

I’m tired, worn out and weak,

Who really cares if I exist,

I’m just called a whore or freak,

When I am too weak to carry on,

Who will pick up my sword and shield,

“They” are ripping me apart,

And to “them” I bow my head and yield.

This is my existence, no use fighting now,

I have dug my six foot grave,

For once in this miserable existence,

Am I forced to willingly behave.

As I gaze off in the distance,

The end is near, so I look to the ground,

I’m grasping for anything, anyone?

All that I ever loved, is no where to be found.

They have forgotten this war I wage,

They have just stood by for the show,

As the sword pierces my heart I yell,

Now I’m finally free from this woe.