PoetsPub Collection - August 2016

I'm not up to this

My words echo from the tile walls

I'm spent, used up, empty

The mirror looks back passively,

as my inner voice berates me

Where's your commitment,

the *Til death part*

I glare at the mirror

The question, I sneer is, whose death

The mirror returns a sardonic stare

I hear muffled sobs from the other room

How can I help any more

nothing brings relief or joy

The mirror scowls back

and the voice intrudes again

What was it you loved, the idea, the status,

or was it the person that burrowed

inside your heart and holds you

a willing prisoner for eternity

The sobbing continues

My throat constricts as I try to swallow

I can't walk away but what do I accomplish-

there is no good outcome, the erosion

taking place is blameless,

unless you want to indict the environment

or the chemicals in food and water

... it's futile

The sobbing abates, a light cough follows

The voice becomes strident

Forget finding blame, find compassion,

find a route into that mind's labyrinth

and impress once more what you avowed

under blossomed bower and copper moon

I stare despondently into the mirror,

the image is wrenching

A small moan and another cough

Turning away I enter the other room;

beholding the purpose of my existence

how could I even consider quitting

Then from dread filled eyes I watch empty tears

roll slowly down the face as the eyes close

Another slight sigh... then nothing