Twixt An Abyss And A Small Star Poem by Andrus Cassian

A cold December day, the label I give, the obvious
and trying times, a total understatement
I feel I'm sinking into quicksand
bowing to the creator of the pressure, the aggravation
like a faithful knight to his liege
Am I complaining, it may prove to be so
in spite of how subtle I'm trying to be in assessing
the small issues, the little things troubling me
This is not my day, what I've said since I opened my eyes
it's one more day where I'm not really living
just a spectator behind rubber glass
watching, with popcorn in hand, time eating us alive
despite the countless, useless things we do to progress, survive
How can I coincide, coexist with the rest of my life
I'm twixt an abyss and a small shimmering star
twixt happiness and a quiet storm of rage
The way out, sealed shut by an iron shelf
The way to be me, it's been erased; I've been brainwashed
The way to breathe, there is none; overdose on nitrogen
I'm solemnly drifting from the shore
screaming for someone to save me
from the darkest space, darkest place, darkest corner of my mind
but it comes out as a whisper
The abyss is calling, laughing maniacally as it swallows me whole
while the small star weeps...twixt some place I fell...