What if

What if want more than this petty life 

of human exhaustion gives me? 

What if I have dreamed 

of Angel fire and demon song? 

What if every hope I’ve asked for left me cold and broken, 

what if I find out this whole time that I’ve been wrong? 
The doubt is mine 

the choice is mine–

the way you twist 

the knife is mine. 

No tags for this post.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in On Depression, Poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.