PILLS & POTIONS

Grief has been shoved down my throat,
It’s unseen, an aberration in a lot,
Overwhelming nonetheless,

Demons from memories that I thought
Were long lost and buried loom,
Creeping over and choking the fight
Out of me,

I’ve had a rope around my neck standing on a stool, what a fool?
I’ve held the gun to my head,
I’ve held potions of dread and pills of death in my hands,

Except I haven’t slid off the stool, Even though I badly wanted to,
Haven’t had the strength in sheer weakness to pull back the trigger,
Haven’t been able to pull through gulping down the potions of dread,
Gulping down the pills of death,

The urge to end it all is sickening,
And Death lurks in the blur,
It seeks to hold me in it’s icy grip for perpetuity,
Save the stakes are too high,
I choose otherwise,

I have a daughter, a son and a wife,
I gotta live to die another day,
I gotta live to fend ,
I gotta live to defend,

Depression is real,
This is my despicable ordeal,
This is a note I’ve jotted down,
To end and not to end,

Choose life, you’re given one
And for that one you touch an infinitude,
Choose life because you’re stronger than the crippling challenges,
Choose life because you simply have to,

You were born to triumph,
Countless times your existence is checked,
Checked before you even had a voice,
And will be checked throughout,
Except you’ll win,
If you choose to.

Muzamir