Off My Medication

So this is what the end looks like.
This is what suicide lurking behind you feels like.
I will no longer sugar coat a damn thing!
Death’s tapping it’s pointed fingernails on my back,
asking if I am ready to crossover into peace.
I can’t go on in the imaginary world
when the real world holds so much beauty.
I can’t be laid into the dark of a casket yet
when the sun of hope blankets my beaten soul.
A soul that’s encased by this body
feels withering and beaten by judgments.
I don’t want to live anymore BUT…
deep down I don’t want to harm myself.
So, this is what the end looks like…
I can’t smile anymore and if I do it is forced.
I don’t try to shelter anymore with meds.
Hope seems like a distant memory…

A curse on this schizophrenic life!