Lonesome fear has plagued my life.
My days of youth, spent in strife.
My faith since abandoned, with prayers unheard,
For God to allow such pain it’s absurd:
“Horror of horrors, a life spent alone,”
“That future assured, my past has shown.”
“O take me heaven, I’d much rather sleep.”
“O holy razor, my blessed release.”
“Help me! Rid me this cursed isolation,”
“Wrought by weary nerves, my eternal damnation.”
“Bleed me this pain, I offer my hand.”
“Rescue me Mother, help me understand.”
Off to the doctor, the counsellor, the shrink,
‘T was a fit of depression that left me on the brink.
And the trauma of a childhood memory, cursed,
Of friendship inverted and a bully’s abuse.
Though the fog did for a time part ‘way
And shone through the brilliance of the happy day.
The fit would consume me again in its shroud;
When as a man my ambitions became lost in a cloud:
Again to the blade to cut out the pain,
The strength to end it all, I prayed to obtain.
Only to add to my dismay so great,
The disaffection of my friends, my unsettled roommates.
The friends, whom I loved, seemingly cast me away;
“I’m again the bullied child with whom no one would play.”
My hurt would consume me in ‘n alcoholic daze;
“Notice me, love me, I’ll make you all pay!”
And so the little boy, himself, became the bully:
Raging and shouting, blinded to my folly.
But when the fit lifted its curtains of rain,
Down upon me, renewed, it came in sheets of shame:
“I’m so sorry, I beg pardon, it won’t happen again,”
Their forgiveness they resigned, ‘cause their the greatest of friends.
But what friend was I to be so worthy of ye?
Now this shame will not lift, as I cannot forgive me.
(Over the years I have learned to let go of shame and to embrace recovery. I am proud of how far I've come.)