Still Poem by Matt Lewis

I sit, I stare one thousand yards, i'm still
I'm still here, but not still, anxious, checking, waiting
I'm angry, empty, fighting thoughts
I don't give up, not yet, small hope
There's panic that I can't ignore
I looms, interrupting, reminding
I can sesnse it in my peripheral
A black spider in a web, high in a corner, watching me
I'm not sitting, i'm not still
evading self destruction again and again
I can't continue forever
Consumed by my own thoughts, creating my own demise
choises of tearing myself apart or a slow drift away
Not yet.