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But This I Do Know

What do you do during these times in your life when all you can feel is the bad? When all you can feel is the pain, rage, utter sorrow, and blasphemy of your own existence? When all that's there is the guilt of your past mistakes.
What do you do when the darkness claims you, when your demons crawl out from under your bed and they're here, and they're very real?
Do you scream the injustice to the unending sky?
Do you cry until you have no tears left?
Do you fall to your knees and pray?
Do you run away and fill your body with poisons to dullen the senses and corrupt your memory?
Do you grant yourself pain of another kind?
Do you fall into numbness?
What do you do, what can you do, when all that is left of you is rotten?
'Is this what I deserve', you ask.
'Why is this happening to me', you ask.
'Why won't someone, anyone, just help me', you ask.
What do you do when the pain is too deep to hugged or kissed away? Such childish sentiments of love have been lost to the agony. Gone is even the simple understanding of love. What can possibly come of this, of me?
What do you do when you're wandering aimlessly in the night and you can't go home, won't go home, because that is the cause of why you feel this way?
What do you do when there is nothing left of you? Nothing left of who you were and you've forgotten who you were striving to be.
I don't know if I'll make it out. I don't know who am. I don't know if there's anything left to try and save. I don't know what tomorrow holds. I don't know anyone who will help me. I don't know the answer to any of these questions and so few understand them. Even fewer know the answers.
This I do know.
I want to know those answers.
But will I?
What do you do?
I want to know.
I want to know, what to do.



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