At the End of My Rope

I’m at the end of my rope.

I don’t really want to do life anymore,
if you can call what I do living.

It’s more like just breathing,
barely alive.

I spend most days in total isolation,
separated from feeling anything.

Day after day,
the hole in me grows and grows.

The depression is like a cancer,
it festers like a sore wound.

I want so desperately to end it all.

I’m at the end of my rope
because you left me hanging here.

You tied the noose
and watched me fall.

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