In This Hole

I can’t think.
Can’t get my thoughts
To stop their frenzied waltz
And line up once again
In a straight pattern,
One after the other,
The way they used to
When everything was still
So goddamned simple.
I can’t effing think.
If my shattered heart
Beats any faster,
I fear it will escape
The familiar prison of my ribcage,
Take off into oblivion
As I wish I could
Every time I meet
My own pleading eyes
In the reflection cast
By broken mirrors.
Thinking used to hurt
So much less than it does now.
Even my own damn voice
Makes my skin erupt
In waves of gooseflesh;
A rain dance illuminating
How dark and how cold
Self-hatred can become.
The blindingly bright fires
That once warmed my despair
Are hardly pinpricks of light,
Dwindling away the more I drown:
The more my hair swirls
Around my tear-stained face,
The more my hands
Fail to grasp for the rope
That might have saved my life
If it had been thrown
Just a bit sooner.

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Another poem about struggling with depression and the problems I experienced during my early/mid teenage years due to it.