The Well – A Poem

It’s cold, dark, damp and bleak,

I want to climb but I’m far too weak,

Plus, there’s a voice telling me I have no chance

So I sit alone in this unforgiving circumstance.

So I sat in the misery for three months maybe four,

The disembodied voice castigating me evermore,

Slowly in the darkness of the well I began to see

That the dismebodied voice was just a part of me

The cold, dark place is located in my head

A place to store problems

I should have acknowledged them instead

So for months I’ve been abusing myself psychologically

I’ve managed to smash my self confidence catagorically

Luckily, my friends and family helped me through

And never believe you’re alone, there is always someone to talk to

Yeah, going to get help fucking hurt my pride

But weakness isn’t seeking help

Weakness is choosing to stay and hide

Vic Chesnutt said “I flirted with you all my life,”

And when my heart fluttered at the sight of a switchblade knife

It was time to get some help. Fuck my pride.

What’s the value of pride when the only alternative is suicide?

I said my piece and got the meds

Hope it calms the storm that blows in my head

And loosens the negative chains that hold me in this hell

Maybe then, I can escape the well…


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