l’appel du vide

{cw: suicide}

I hear it. when I’m waiting
for the train by myself
and I’m late, and my eyes
are sandy from lack
of sleep, and I feel
so weary, so deeply
enervated by life, it’s hard
not to look at the oncoming
metal beast and think
I could just step forward
and all of
this
would be over
.

of course I don’t. of course
I would never really
do it. (anyway, with my luck
I’d probably survive,
horribly mangled.
then I’d really have
something to cry about.)

but I do hear
the siren song
of the void, and know
that I am resisting.
I test my strength against it
like a rock
I am rolling up
a mountain of doubt.

so far
I have always been
strong enough
to withstand it.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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