I reached for fame,
but my arms too short;
back and embraced me instead.
I pushed off fear and tried to be strong,
but the effort sapped the life in me,
and I fell asleep.
I awoke with a whisper of hope
but drowned that with a cup of coffee.
My day is better spent walking silently,
My thoughts bounce
from the pinnacles of possibility
to the depths of despair,
turning back and forth by the minute.
Restless yet spent,
I stumble through each and every day
seeking only a moment
to catch my breath
(secretly hoping it will be my last).
Life is not fair that way.
It will pummel you,
but it won’t let you quit.
You have to do that on your own time,
whenever that might be.
If I had the courage to end it all,
wouldn’t I then have the courage to live it all?
You would think.
On both counts you’d be wrong.
So until breath departs and sleep descends,
I keep stumbling along.
If you see me in the road,
cross the street.
The stench of defeat
can wilt an angel’s wings.