Ill-Made

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She was damaged by circumstance
against her will.

The patterns of dysfunction became habits of life.
She claimed her internal baggage to carry onward.

Life was always challenging.
The rewards were seemingly unattainable.

Happiness was strived for but just out of reach.
A bitter, lonely end was her destiny.

And inevitably, she ceased to exist.

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Going Down

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The light slowly leaving.

Dolor creeping into this blank space in my head.

Swallowed up in this ever-deepening gray haze minimizing my liveliness.

Pitch-blackness, my old friend, immobilizing me again.

No energy, desire, motivation or strength.

This thick sadness creates a loneliness where hope can’t creep in.

Courage oozes away, one drop after another of life leaking to somewhere it can’t return from.

Goals left to die in the waves of this depression.

Silent tears pitching between wet, heavy sobs.

An aching all-encompassing deep pain leaving invisible scars.

Severe despondency and dejection, I doubt life can go on.

It’s a reality in my head not worth living.

Escape from that which continually pulls me down feels impossible, this devastating extreme of the opposite of happy.

It feels like I’m stolen from me.

I feel over.