Poetry

Relapse

Trying - an acceptable excuse I fabricate to hold on the imposter
drawing hope from perceiving the truth infected with ambiguity.
No crutches strong enough for me, no voices could save me.
Such was my hardened fallacious faith.

Recuperation - the only option to have a shot at survival.
As I spiral up, reality hammers my desires back into a familiar darkness.
The incidence of this event is so frequent that I forgot...
what was I saying? Oh yeah, forgot to live in the reality.

Traitors ghost through me; never reconciliatory.
I press on harder to break past my whims and wishes, just then…
Ruthlessly, the incisive whip of responsibilities cracks down on me.
Aha! Now I’m just numb; seasoned to this affliction.

My demons have come to a consensus to craft in advance for greener grass, but what is the word I will get it? I’m forced to cast down by such inquisitions.
Resolute, I think I am, but only resolute to relapse.