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Escaping The Pit

Updated on February 24, 2018

This was written in 1999, and is not my typical sing-song, rhyming poetry. My words flow freely when I am experiencing strong emotion, which is why so much of my work was written in the late 90's and early 00's. It was a tremendous struggle to overcome my severe depression, but I am proud to say that I made it out, using nothing more than the power of my mind.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to get out of this pit. I'm halfway there but bloody and raw. The flesh of my hands stripped to the bone. My face streaked with mud and blood and bits of stone. For every foot I have climbed, I've slid down two. Now it's closer to three. Progress is nonexistent and soon I'll be back at the bottom. Once I'm there I don't know what I'll do with hands resembling ground beef and my soul and my sanity stripped away. The anger fading to a dull acceptance. With my strength drained I will resign. No reason to hope for the assistance of others. Wasn't it they who put me here in the first place? I believe it is and it was and I will fight until the strength is nothing but a memory and then I will rest. Then I will rest.


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