Wicked Cascade

The pain falls on me like a wicked cascade dousing me in its cold and lonely water. I'm drowning I cannot get to the surface; all I do is pretend I'm not sinking into the depths of a colossal depression for a while. It's not long before someone comes along and puts me back under, the dunk that inevitably comes.

Yearning for death I spend my days putting a smile on my pale white face trying to hide the shame, the fear, and despair I live with everyday. No matter what, it's in the back of my mind, eating at my soul like a parasite just burrowing deeper and deeper. One day I'll crack; split throwing my blackened memories and blood onto the pavement just like broken glass splintering in a thousand directions.

Until then I live like a ghost no one home, nobody who understands, no one to talk to. There is just me, a very lost and despondent existence that's been melded into my every breath. All those who put me down, the names, from my very own flesh and blood telling me what a dense and horrid person I really am.

They are correct. And they will win one day when the anguish overwhelms what's left of my soul leaving just my worldly body behind and a few idiotic lines, my makeshift poems of despair.