One more second.

Is another that I grow weary of being here.

One more minute.

Is that I am constantly reminded of my faults.

One more hour.

Is a measure of my life, my strength, my heart, my hopes, dashed.

One more day.

Is another that I’m reminded that you’re not here. That you were never here. That I have always been alone.

One more week.

Shows me another time when I’ve let you all down. When I have let myself down. When I am not the man you need me to be.

In these moments of deep thought and reflection
Are the times when I am most without direction
Your words, your interventions, your distraction
Floods in, surrounds, and drowns any momentum,
I stand here in this quicksand, praying for deliverance
I stand here in this quicksand, wishing for the end.
For once I stood upon the mountaintop and surveyed the world,
I realized, far too quickly, that the fall, nor the sudden stop, seemingly can kill me.

Am I invincible or is it that nothing ever really tried?
Is it that life isn’t merely lived, nor survived,
if you cannot tell the last time you thrived.