Confused,
Scared,
Unbelieving in myself.
At times,
I hate myself,
Hate my life.
I roam through it,
An unseeing coward,
Afraid of taking the next step.
I do not know who I am,
But what I am now,
I do not like.
I sometimes wish
That I were dead,
And my life ended.
Then would I be happy
Then would I be at peace
And deep within the arms of darkness.
But I do not feel the call,
The need to end it all
By death himself.
I have a purpose
And as yet I don’t know what
But I must need to suffer.
I must endure
The long nights
And the even longer days.
And survive
To do what
I am meant to do.