Bad Shape.

Bad Shape:

All the world has come tumbling down,
in one second is all it took.
My life, my reality for all it's worth,
all shattered and torn to pieces.

In all the trouble and strife,
I try so hard to keep my composure.
To soldier on and to try and reassemble
what is left of this miserable life.

Like a ton of bricks that have
come crashing down, the weight
on these shoulders is just
so much to bear.

Much like a displaced jigsaw
puzzle, I must strive to fit
each piece to it's proper place;
but will all the pieces still be there?

Such a burden on my brain,
such a strain on my soul.
But what can I do?
Not wait for doom, but carry on.

My eyes now see what once they
could not, for I now see who
are the strangers who once
befriended me. Now all gone in my hour of need.

Fair weather friends were those I thought close to me,
now left and gone with no goodbye,
just as well left me for dead.

Now I count the true friends
that I hold tight, less then
four fingers and one thumb.
Reality is such a hard mistress to keep,
she will not rest nor let you sleep.

Lonely without much mental
nourishment, a man so tired
from such crisis and torment
creating havoc in his simple life.

Plodding on from day to day,
taking one unsure step at a time.
He will keep trying to restore
his battered and empty life.

Depression now a nightly mate,
so cold and bitter, feelings
which he cannot compensate.
So carry on each day as best as I can.

Each new day I hope for some relief from my sorrows, pain and grief.

Steven Beesley (c)