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Poem: Tomb.

A poem about well, just read it and figure it out.

Tomb.

I wake up from a light sleep.
Eyes still tired, swollen red.
Another day another depression.
Down the well again, Deep.

Questioning death, or should I say relief
No answers returned, silent like the grave.
I lay here, once again feeling like a shell.
Forsaken by mankind, forgotten by belief.

One of the weak, Abiding the strong.
Meant to lose, designed to fail.
Rage to fuel the fire, pain to mold it.
How did I get here, what did I do wrong?

What value do I hold then I ask?
Am I worth more dead than alive.
A breathing spare part for others.
Smile, hide your face behind the mask.

Damage in the core, melting down.
Burning up, alone and in tears.
Men don’t cry, men resist that fear.
I’m no longer a man, Let me drown.

Drown in my own tears, my own pain.
Call me a freak as that’s what I am.
A horrid fiend, wasting your air.
A hollow shell, no soul to regain.

Lovingly kept, from the safety of the womb.
Now shat out into the world to die alone.
Without friends without love, without purpose.
My body to hold me, My flesh my tomb.

Legion.