I Am...

I am death

Death because I feel dead inside,

A fallen angel, blackened in a hellish dust

And left to rot like a corpse.

I am numb

Numb to all emotion except fear which

Creeps its hands, large and commanding, onto

My shoulders.

I am tired

Tired of feeling the same way day in,

Day out.

Waiting, heavy-eyed, as the seductive warmth of endless sleep evades me

Once more.

I am darkness

Darkness as the light is barricaded by stone clouds,

Depression, a shroud, hangs over me like the night where

And when demons haunt me.

I am crying

Crying because maybe I’m not good enough.

Not to write, to write, to read, to learn—to live? Tears, a quagmire of sadness

Down my aching, soul-devoid face.

I am a dreamer

A dreamer trapped in this nightmare, which no

Amount of waking will ever release me from under

Its cruel thumb.

I am anxious

Anxious because I always have been. Always a worrier

Whose heart pounds against my rib cage and gasps for air,

For life.

But, I am me.

I am what I want to be.

And no numbness, no fatigue, no darkness, no crying, no nightmares, no anxiety

Will ever stand in the way of me and my dreams. And if they can’t block my path to the horizon of glory—then why should death stop me either?