This piece is something I wrote when I was at one of the lowest points of my life.
That's when they come.
That's when the monsters called depression march in on their horses of loneliness.
That's when my world coincides with an alternate dimension and my nightmares take the form of reality.
Do I dare fight back?
For their whips of knives slice my arms with every step I take.
Their voices scream my hidden truths as they rip the skin off my body with their bare hands.
I don't dare fight back.
I submit, terror seeping through my veins.
For I have no hope.
As more and more march through like the warriors of an apocalypse, I stand before the gallows with my outstretched arms barely touching the loop that will soon end my suffering. Do I dare step forward or fight back?
I exist in this constant limbo with destruction on either side, both beckoning me over like a man in a van and a child down the street.
I don't know which path to take.
I choose death.