The Heartache Of Giving Up Poem by Vuyani Brown Mnisi

At a low
at the finish line of sadness
at the coldest place a human heart
at the very soul of the deepest hole
furthest from the destined road
at a place where the door to happiness looks closed
You will find me

Right now I am at a low
I am at the love of self-torture
I am at a place where loving myself is fallacy
I am at a ring that’s too round for me to take a stand
I am at the mercy of the ghosts and painful corner of my childhood
When I was the child that failed in every sphere of childhood

I cannot be found
The place where I am at is God-forsaken
Walking the way back is worse than the furnace of hell
Seeing all the things that blinded my vision
Hearing all the sharp words that pierced my ear
Oh how sad!
Who knows misery like I do
I have met, wined and dined with it
I have entertained, fought and hated it
I have gone every place there is to explore with it
I am its scientist;
I have studied misery and concluded nothing
I have scorched hands and no smoking gun to show
I was tormented at the greatest of levels
I have seen things no child should ever see

I should not be this loving
Nor should I still be this kind
This sick sense of peace I feel I welcome not
It is unorthodox, it must be a paradox
I should have a list longer than all my enemies on top of the other
Of people worthy of my vengeance
I should be a sadistic dealer of the cards of pain
To lovers, to the world
But oh I am a fool
I do not like the insinuation of what I should be!

I feel a cold and ungentle breeze coming
It’s like I shall become in character what I vowed never to be
Either that or I stay the victim of my childhood
I refuse to take this pain any longer
To call giving up a friend of mine
It is however true that I am a genius at what I don’t care for
And hopeless at what I love
Giving up will be God betraying me
It will be my heart stabbing me
And my own mother laughing in the process
But the deal looks set and done from time immemorial
It looks hopeless and gloomy,
I will not endear any longer than I have, I have reached breaking point

You are fortunate you do not see the sadness in the eyes that guide this pen as I put these words together
You should rejoice you never saw the sad speed of how I wrote this
You should thank the gods of yours for sparing you from the sad sight of this
For there is nothing more painful than seeing a humiliated man taking it all in
It is slower than dying from an overdose
Sadder than making love to a girl you don’t love
More confusing than losing your mind
Darker than the coldest winter night

Every emotion expressed releases the oppressed
Yet these words show me blinding things
Every awakening brings with it a new day
Yet these thoughts bring my sad yesterdays
Every good wife is an eraser of the sad past
Yet this life that was dealt unto me overshadows every good
Every prosperity brings with it great wealth
Yet my soul gets poorer every day

I just had to do this
I had to put myself through this
I had to show myself great disdain
But as was every long and dreadful episode
I will come out of this a greater lover
A poet
A writer
A friend
And, of course, a fool.