To go to that place,

To go to that dark place.

To mourn for oneself,

To mourn for oneself out of pity and self loathsomeness.

That dark place, 

That dark place that numbs oneself more than the sub zero winter.

That numbing sensation,

That numbing sensation that forces itself on one's chest until no breath is left.

I am drowning, 

I am drowning in that dark place while I grow numb and pressure cleaves to me.

I await something peaceful, 

Something of bliss.

But I find this can only be achieved, 

Only achieved if I let go.

To stop fighting the dark place, the numbingness, the pressure,

To let go, and let myself drown.

And just as such as one has mourned at his self pity,

One has achieved that peace and bliss.

Perhaps I should quit being persnickety,

And know what it means to accept life's eternal gift.