Push Poem by Rabi Anata

Confusion, doubt, self-loathing...
tired, I am so.
Every emotion, too many...
I don't know.
No comfort, privacy, none here
none at home.
Who would be my
fine-toothed comb,
smooth the gray?
Left alone, yes,
I would like to be.
The end of loneliness, stress
uncertainty, inferiority.
World, you depress.
Again, all the time
I digress.
Redirect me to the point.
What was it,
well does it exist?

What's this black tint?
I peer through,
but only perceive
shadows. 'Hopeless' I say.
No, sometimes I don't believe
peace and unity,
profounds words,
such they are.

Humans have herds,
stupid herds.
I never belonged,
not sure I can, I wasn't meant.
These thoughts, prolonged,
they reoccur.
'Hopeless? 'no I wouldn't say that,
but then what?
Unbearably flat,
every encounter.
Incredibly inaudible, unable,
I am myself.
Have thrown the keys on the table,
put the books on the shelf;
been done for awhile,
but still try, don't know why I try.
I Wipe tears and
let out a big sigh,
I give up
on this life.
The next step?
The pills, the gun, the knife?
Gone, I am so...
sick, unwilling to go on.