Living day to day, I struggle just to breath.
Trying to keep my calm. Praying for a long reprieve.
Balancing on the edge, each moment that I take.
Stomping down moments of regret, trying to avoid another mistake.
End it now or keep pressing on, decisions never far from thought.
Wishing for a peaceful existence, no demands or responsibilities fought.
For my shattered mind, so fragile, worn thin, how did I get to this place?
Always so strong, so determined, now weakness, an utter disgrace.
Body broken, weighed down, crippled in chronic pain.
Pushing myself, the frustration, no endurance, pushed in vain.
Questioning my existence, anger, fear, and doubt.
Stuck in a hole with no exit, surrounded by a withering drought.
The end so close, I feel it near. Do I reach out and grasp it’s hand?
Even the thought of that decision is simply too heavy a demand.
I think of their faces, my heart and soul, the pain that would never heal.
Do I put that burden upon them? A pain I never want them to feel.
But is my life worth keeping? A weight dragging everyone down.
Unable to care for myself, all the tasks piling up and I drown.
No one here to pass the torch to, everyone looking for me to depend on.
How can they even think it’s realistic, blinded by who I once was, she’s gone.
My hubby, exhausted, I see the burn out taking it’s toll.
He refuses to acknowledge, yet it seeps from his very soul.
My heart breaking in a million pieces, I feel helpless to my core.
Dreaming of winning the lottery, hire help, hire so much more.
Life’s journey, roads traveled, didn’t turn out as I’d expect.
How much damage one’s health can do, lacking services and respect.
No one chooses to be ill, dreams shattered and washed away.
Passions abandoned and unfinished, life in a state of decay.
Never quite enough to qualify for getting my needs met.
Like a dangled carrot above me, while being judged, but don’t fret.
Is it worth hanging on, listening to others scorn?
Sitting in their high castles, while my soul does nothing but mourn?
Cut them out from my existence, not worth the extra stress.
Neither willing to lend a hand, while I continue to regress.
Sitting in judgement seats while my body rots away.
And you wonder why I cut you out, a game I simply won’t play.
Every little bit of stress adds another layer deep.
Breaking down my body even faster while I weep.
My life now down to few, the only ones that matter.
Do I continue to hold on, do I give in to the madhatter?
Like a prophesy once told, left a simple talking head.
But even talking exhausts me, maybe better off if dead.
Dianne MacKay 6/24/2022