A poem written by Jeremy Berquist
There's nothing like despair to feed the beast.
Your eyes dart quickly. You gasp, clutch your will--
you're back again--you almost drew your last.
Now lying hushed, a ghost above, you're still.
The night cannot contain your teeming thoughts.
What substance there is, though dark,
quickly fades into one shattered self,
all coulds, all oughts erased, your haunted mind almost explodes.
A whisper--you're awake.
The beast is here.
No wandering nights could ever soothe its groan,
and empty dreams fuel a greater fear.
You pull yourself up.
You're facing it alone.
There's solace knowing you've done this before.
And then there's knowing there's nothing more.
© 2016 Mental Health Association of Northwestern PA