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Process of Giving Up
Process of Giving Up

Process of Giving Up


The air tastes of smoke,
And ashes hide the sun.
You beg for it to be over,
Yet it seems it’s just begun.

All around you, you see people smiling,
Oblivious to your pain.
You hold the world upon your shoulders.
Your back bowing from the strain.

“Keep your head up,” they encourage as they pass,
Yet they are blind to your crushing burden.
Your strength is fading fast,
And you wonder if it’s worth it.

Tears streak your face,
And your knees begin to shake.
Yet you smile through it all,
Brilliant and fake.
You must keep up your act,
For happiness is something you’re supposed to make.

As your shoulders begin to shudder,
Your facade begins to waver.
You no longer believe you can do it on your own,
So you seek in vain for a savior.

No one comes to your aid,
For you are too far out of reach.
They shake their heads and stow away your story,
For the next time that they preach.

You feel completely alone,
And the ground shatters at your feet.
The stars rain down to set the world afire,
Searing, as you scream defeat.

The air is sharp and icy,
At odds with the falling, burning sky.
Every breath scrapes your throat,
And you're scared that you might die.

The wind swirls ash to clog your eyes,
Yet you can still see those around you.
They pass you by without a glance,
Just happy they barely know you.

You’re a hopeless cause, you see,
And they refuse to be dragged down.
“It’s your fault anyways,”
They mutter, as they watch you drown.

As you swallow pain and regret,
You begin to claim this as your destiny.
You begin to blame yourself,
You begin to wonder if, maybe, this was meant to be.

Your guilt is easier to swallow,
For you believe you deserve this pain.
You beg for more sorrow, more loss,
For you have nothing left to gain.

Maybe if you drink enough,
Or if you drown your soul in hurt,
You’ll finally be absolved
And you can shed pain like a shirt.
You ignore the devil on your shoulder,
Mocking your self-worth.
It’s not as though you had much to begin with, you reason.
So.. What’s it really worth?

You’ve given up, it seems.
And you’ve gone and done the deed.
You’ve killed yourself;
Your tortured soul, you’ve freed.
Yet that pain did not simply fade away.
Now all of us carry it inside.
There are grooves worn into our skin
From where our fallen tears have dried.
We will carry them forever;
They’ve been there since you died.

You see:
We hated how much we missed you;
We all lost a piece of ourselves;
We fell to oblivion with you,
To our own savage hells.
We tore ourselves apart, and
Left only empty, broken, hollowed shells.

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About This Story
10 Aug, 2020
Read Time
2 mins
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