cockroaches crawling all over my skin
anxiety sets in
I guess I’m not leaving the bed today
their eyes will probe me, creep over my skin
like the roach, they will know my weakness and shame
every day I regret not leaving this world when I had an easy chance
terror pins me to the bed, I drown in self-hatred
screams deafening echo in my impotent body
frustration and rage, hopelessness and pain
I shed tears as the room grows smaller
until finally I’m consumed
unknowable dread blots out the sun
beleaguered by besiegers in a keep with no hope
I had a plant, his name was Geoffroy
He dried up when I went away for a bit
Dying of thirst, I proceeded to drown him
This is the irony that shadows my own suffering
let my epitaph read:
“There is nothing anyone could have done.”