Well maybe, we always say.
Maybe someone new will stay.
For all the pieces I can dream,
Nothing good to life I bring.
And for the years, haven’t I gone bad?
Have I not been driven mad?
Far too well I know the hate:
Possessing. Reaching for the blade.
Crying where is my heaven in this hell?
Hope. How else? A bit of lying to oneself.
Endure however long.
I hold on just to hold on.
A few weeks old.
I like how unexpected this came together. Standing before a drop into a waterfall, my mind goes to being purified. Leaving the past and present altogether…
Something from last Friday. Still lonely old me at my piano. Things we do to keep our grip in life…
Something I began a few weeks ago for suicide prevention week. I wanted to draw a symbol that touched on some of the difficult emotions suicide can bring up. I look at this and remember my own past with suicidal thoughts, feeling as if being removed from the lives of those around me would be better for them and a perfect answer for me. Knowing whether I’m here or not, life goes on. I can’t let go of believing life has to show up beneath the ashes eventually. With that, the weight has been easier to bear.