The Suicide Wrestler Poem by Timothy Long

The pain was vivid, but intruding, did the bruises not care, or explore my depths in drugs to wrestle more, failure got me hard in depression as only one choice got me so, the grace of sadness that cannot be reached, living a pointless life, knowing the nightmare day in and out, to die alone, why have a dream when no one supports, the loneliness is eating me away, people just leave me broken, I don't even know who I am anymore, why am I haunted, what's happy? in hopes are good of my own choice, maybe not today, being I can't let it stay either way, loneliness can stay skin deep but can blood, with a mock cry such as this, like the golden heart lost forever more, like a sun out shining the worlds darkness, lament the fact as I know death reaches us all, the energy is gone as is everything else, nothing is left except, except the feeling of death of meeting again, none which will be known.