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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2087535-Window-Entrapment
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2087535
A look into depression caused by failing at anything you put your soul into.
Window entrapment.

To fail, humbling in a way, frustration has won on this day.

A challenge that you have striven to meet, the crippling numbness of being knocked to the street.

Those that gloat take note cutting you down, you try to stand, maintain face but those cuts run deep.
Your misery makes me happy that is what you're told.

Beaten and bruised retreating into yourself to brood.
Looking out through the windows that are your eyes, in your sanctum you try to survive.

The spark of drive has left you this day, now you will become cocooned in your mind, leaving your life to fester. How do you fight this, how can you win when your drive is gone and you retreat within?

To make your peace is not easily done when you're reminded of your failure so very often.

To be called selfish, a lout people still slashing implying more doubt.

I am done, not too go on, I will shrivel my lot is gone.
That day my life ended in such a way, I have been bested, bloodied and exiled away.

Self-pity is my cage, being happy in misery so self-absorbed I really cannot see. Those windows become mirrors a constant reminder of the hurt. How my life fell and my mind was burnt.

Like raindrops consolation will fall against those mirrors that where once so clear, that where not looked out of but opened and reveled in.

Here I sit in the sanctum still, making plans that will not be acted upon, the holes picked before the cloth has been woven, and an unfit garment that was so flawed in the making, self-pity rules and it will not be taken.

Over time the rain of consolation ends, the mirrors are silent people move on out of frustration.

This is my prison and so rightly so, its my own doing and this is what I have reaped to be left in the dark no shadow to see. No way to gauge how flee.

More plans made and a spark of drive ignites only to be quenched by the doubt and strife.

Happy in misery, such a strange quote. But lived it is understood.

A change is needed not to be sure of what.

(This poem will be continued in another that is currently being worked upon.)

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