Summited by Anonymous

The paper
is bent, out of shape, dried, and crisp
this used to show where I came from
who I was before
the colors are damaged and frail
I can’t put it back together
I can’t put it back together
I can’t put ME back together
I’m on the edge. I can’t escort myself to get there
to get the knowledge I know I need
the urges are coming back harder than ever before
I don’t know how much longer I can hold
wheels connected – I’m moving
but not forward
I’m trapped, confined to this table
what am I to do?
what is this?
Back, back, back to the place so familiar and ratient
but it’s my downfall, my insufficiency
Will I ever hold on?
no, I caved in to the picture upon that crisp wall
let my tears fall in falls
no time left to think
the clock struck midnight
I am no longer
sober
I’m sorry.

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