The Pit

It is one of those days,

Yet again,

Where you wake up

And it’s still dark.

Your open eyes, see no light,

Helpless, you grope in the dark.

Your eyes get used to the black,

And you start to notice,

That you know this place.

It’s one of those days, again.

This pit of oblivion,

The dark recesses within your mind,

Where you trap yourself.

You smile, pacing comfortably.

You feel the walls, and

Notice the grooves of the

Scratches your bleeding nails

Had made here before.

It’s one of those days, again.

The walls lined with jagged rocks,

Outgrowths of thorns and vines,

I have to cut myself,

To climb back out.

Today, I wonder, if it’s worthwhile

Or should I just succumb

To the darkness.

What difference does it make?

It’s one of those days.

Image courtesy:

3 Comments Add yours

  1. I keep coming back to read this, because some bits are uncannily similar to how I described my pit a couple of years ago when I was low. I hope you find your matchbox for now, and that those days end soon.
    With no intention to spam,

    1. S. says:

      I read your work. Intense and relatable. 🙂

      1. i was thinking it might be relatable 🙂 thanks

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