Hell Ends in a Grave
by Alexander Simoneau '18
So far I hath fought amongst myself a thousand battles nightly
In an effort to change
Do something new
I feel as though I have become something of an empty shell
Day and night I sit in the same spot, walk the same path to the same place and do the same thing: waste away the life and the time I have, to do what I wish
I sit doing the most mundane and boring tasks
Wake up at the most absurdly late times
And feel… horrible
Hell is creeping upon me
Drawing me in with tendrils of bleak black grim depression
Burning what is left of my mind to ashes
Scattering the dust of my life among the wind to be forever alone
Frozen in time, I do nothing, still to avoid that which is nearing
The gaping maw of dolor grows wider the longer I sit
So it may swallow more of my soul in one bite, or the whole of my being
Yet I should find my peace among the breeze
Moments of peace are fleeting in these waking times
So hard are they, the ones where we are left alone to do what it is we wish
We grow bored of our old desires
Then, when we have reprieve of the day, the night brings upon us thoughts of what it was we wasted
A day in the life of someone special
A unique person
Reduced to nothing
And my hell is filled with that emptiness
The void which is all my limitless lethargy
So alone
Sitting there
My attention focused on one thing
It goes nowhere and deviates not for more than but a fleeting moment
Then, when I have the time to spare
In the midst of night
I have the most horrific battles
Among myself and my thoughts
My mind splits among its hemispheres
A civil war fought among my dreams
Sanity tired and turned against itself is one which no man can find peace with
None but the strongest of us
And even they who fight still have been taught by those before them
In the ways of inner peace
The weakness to which depression knows its annihilation
As this time of my torture closes
The jaws of death close without so much as a gash upon my wrist
But now I look upon the reborn impending doom
It is my daily prison
My constant stress
Yet my reason for life
With a mixture of feelings
Those of hope for success
And dread for failure
For dealing with the constant battles
But of joy that I am freed from the void
This lonely place
This empty hole
To an old world where I am constantly busy and never at a moment's peace
Is living life not just breathing air as all creatures do?
I have found that it is such, and far more
We often find desire to have solitude and rest during times of great duress
But nowhere within such reprieve will anyone find any peace
For it is too great a toll on your mind to have time to think
Because when you do
You bring yourself to the brink of madness
And though I have won the battle this day and those before
The war does not end
Only in the grave will anguish come to rest
But as blood still runs within my veins
I have not been there yet
I live to die, and die to live
In an effort to change
Do something new
I feel as though I have become something of an empty shell
Day and night I sit in the same spot, walk the same path to the same place and do the same thing: waste away the life and the time I have, to do what I wish
I sit doing the most mundane and boring tasks
Wake up at the most absurdly late times
And feel… horrible
Hell is creeping upon me
Drawing me in with tendrils of bleak black grim depression
Burning what is left of my mind to ashes
Scattering the dust of my life among the wind to be forever alone
Frozen in time, I do nothing, still to avoid that which is nearing
The gaping maw of dolor grows wider the longer I sit
So it may swallow more of my soul in one bite, or the whole of my being
Yet I should find my peace among the breeze
Moments of peace are fleeting in these waking times
So hard are they, the ones where we are left alone to do what it is we wish
We grow bored of our old desires
Then, when we have reprieve of the day, the night brings upon us thoughts of what it was we wasted
A day in the life of someone special
A unique person
Reduced to nothing
And my hell is filled with that emptiness
The void which is all my limitless lethargy
So alone
Sitting there
My attention focused on one thing
It goes nowhere and deviates not for more than but a fleeting moment
Then, when I have the time to spare
In the midst of night
I have the most horrific battles
Among myself and my thoughts
My mind splits among its hemispheres
A civil war fought among my dreams
Sanity tired and turned against itself is one which no man can find peace with
None but the strongest of us
And even they who fight still have been taught by those before them
In the ways of inner peace
The weakness to which depression knows its annihilation
As this time of my torture closes
The jaws of death close without so much as a gash upon my wrist
But now I look upon the reborn impending doom
It is my daily prison
My constant stress
Yet my reason for life
With a mixture of feelings
Those of hope for success
And dread for failure
For dealing with the constant battles
But of joy that I am freed from the void
This lonely place
This empty hole
To an old world where I am constantly busy and never at a moment's peace
Is living life not just breathing air as all creatures do?
I have found that it is such, and far more
We often find desire to have solitude and rest during times of great duress
But nowhere within such reprieve will anyone find any peace
For it is too great a toll on your mind to have time to think
Because when you do
You bring yourself to the brink of madness
And though I have won the battle this day and those before
The war does not end
Only in the grave will anguish come to rest
But as blood still runs within my veins
I have not been there yet
I live to die, and die to live
