Wayne Michael DeHart (September, 1996)
i look up and around as i slip down,
the light of tranquility fading
i scratch and i claw till my fingers are raw
losing my grip and my strength
i try hard to think as i continue to sink
to a depth too many have known
i curse my plight but continue to fight,
though my resistance mournfully wanes
my limbs are now weak and i can hardly speak
as the cylinder narrows its gauge
my will has expired and I’m so hopelessly tired
that i pray for the bottom to rise
but my descent is not done (it’s just really begun)
so i resolve to shut down my mind
it’s my way to cope and cling to the hope
that my fall is really a stumble
and that i’ll awaken again
to a smile from a friend
illuminating . . .
this darkest of views
from this deepest of holes
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