a failure, unable to function.
I don't want to rise from this chair,
to move into society, to do chores,
to see people, to fit into society.
I look back to the past, to the good,
to the glance I had into promise,
into fitting, into finding my place.
I remember then, recall the peace,
the hope. But I've fallen from grace,
have strayed, am back as hopeless,
as wretched as before – but more so,
for I can remember the peace, the hope.
I despair. I bewail, I lament, I give up.
I call on you for aid and on your advice
when I find it different from the consoling,
from the assurance I'm doing better
than I believe, then it feels, then the evidence...
when I hear that I declare your abandonment,
your leaving me, your letting me sink.
I refuse to do as you say. Instead I remain
bogged in, defeated, stuck to this chair
and refusing to consider your advice,
trust myself further into the mire.
No thinks. I'll stay here and mourn
my lack of support from you and your ilk.
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