You, The Glass and The World

This is one of the few times that my own writing ever scared me. No, not when I'm writing it but much later when I come back to read it. It's amazing and at the same time horrific what our minds processes and gives out.

I've got two poems here. They're kinda interrelated. I hope they find you well.

I
Today, I type with numb fingers
I write with my eyes half closed
I spell with a blank mind
See, I’ve known pain and horror
I’ve watched a loved one pass on
I’ve seen things taken from people
But I’ve never known this

I call it this thing
I have no name for it
It takes away everything from me
It makes me gasp and grasp
I awake everyday with tired bones
And a strange thing crawling
Around in my stomach

It steals my breath
I struggle day and night
Sometimes I win, not always
They tell me to hang on
They whisper that it’ll be alright
I’ve waited for it to change
Now, I’m slowly losing hope

II
I’m holding a hand
Two hands, I think
I’m not sure anymore
The hands used to be familiar
I can’t say so anymore

I don’t recognise a lot of things
My eyes are bloodshot
A hollow when I look in the mirror
My face has become a stranger’s
My slender body too thin

My voice crack when I speak
My legs struggle to hold me upright
My eyes are barely open all day long
I only hear one sound
One voice I know calling my name

The hands are too sickly
It makes me angry and sad
Sadness wins because I let it
Anger takes so much energy
I’m too exhausted to waste any

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