Forlorn

Bereft of hope, supine pose, crumbling within.

Each constrained tear splashing away at my soul.

Fortifying a façade – for daughter, for family, for friends.

Feigning life when I can barely see beyond my walls.

Rash thoughts and desperate prayers take place of self-will.

The cruel voice that preys upon moments of weakness.

Spiraling cause and effect that cripples any action.

And so, with head upon the block, I wait for the axe to fall.

Waiting for my world to be torn asunder and me left with pieces
of family, of friends, of home, of my very being.

Waiting to know if essence remains to rebuild a sense of self.