When you are at your lowest

And you just want to drown in your sorrows

And just wants to give up

Fall into that black hole

There's always someone

Who worries about you

Wanting you to hold on

Even when there's only a thin string of hope

Yet they cling on to it

Wanting you to fight

With every inch that you can

And it breaks my heart

Knowing that I can't

Even if I want

It breaks my heart

That I break their hearts

Because of this

But there's still time

As long long as there is

We make most of it

Before the sands

Inside the hourglass

Disappear

When the day is done,

It's time for sleep,

And no one's there beside me,

So I weep.

My cat comes along,

And curls up beside me.

I hum a soft song,

And she purrs softly.

Gently, I fall asleep.

I think not of why I weep.

I dream as I sleep,

Then get up and repeat.

I have no words that can help him because he is in too deep that he's lost his voice for his own words. I still continue to try to help him but when i look at him i can no longer see the person that he was before because the monster has began stealing his looks. What i see is a tourtured soul. The Marks on his arms show the extent he goes to take away all the pain he endures. Dark circles under his lost eyes. His addiction is slowly sucking the life out of him and to show that he's left with only skin and bones. I see past his fake smiles and see nothing but pain.

I wish I could just shake the monster out of him before the monster becomes him.

I, too, have lived the painful, reckless lifestyle of addiction. Scars to prove the torment and left with not even being able to look at myself in the mirror because I hate what I see.

I want to protect him from the agonizing tourture he will face if he continues using. He will lose absolutely everything, but worst of all he will lose himself completely.

Not to deepen this depression that I'm already in but you wanted me to tell you so I'll tell you. The saddest of all poets are the ones who lose themselves for a night or so only to wake up with their thoughts in front of them and only a pen that can really understand them. This very poet is me, this very person who doesn't know how else to tell it is who I am. I can't tell you about the dementias I've been through these past 4 days because it just wouldn't make sense, but this very thing broke my heart and lead me to it all. This very thing that makes me ache and yearn to understand why is the inevitable question, why?

Why was I everything, more than enough to a person, only to find that it wasn't good enough? Multiple times I told myself that I wans't good enough for him, fact is he's not good enough for me. I think that much is true, however, I don't know if that's all I want to say about being 'good enough.' What is good enough? I mean all my life I try my hardest to be good enough for me and everyone around me and it's just that time where I really ask myself, what is good enough? Is straight A's good enough? Does that complete who I am? Does having the life that people dream of make me good enough? Does my hair or my skin make me good enough? What about my personality and attitude, morals? Do those things make me good enough? Did that seem enough to him in his eyes or did he need more? If he needed more then what more was he lacking? I gave everything to him, heart, mind, body, and soul, but I don't think it was good enough... or may be it was and I just didn't know it.

Why did I deserve it? Did I annoy him... no, I thought I talked to him the amount he wanted me to talk to him.. in the beginning he made it clear, he wanted a relationship but not one where he was hassled. I didn't hassle him! I only wanted a phone call, a text, a simple paragraph every once in a while to tell me that he cared. To tell me that at the end of the day, I still mattered to him. I was more than just a phone call away, I was a text away, a silence away... I was never spiritually away, ever. I though I listened, I thought I heard what his soul was aching for and tried my hardest to complete it. So again, why did I deserve it? I never did anyone like this in my past, I never lied, okay only once... I never cheated, ever. I never hid anything from him, I was always honest, but it wasn't enough... again. What was good enough?

It isn't the fact that he's not here, but the fact that a broken heart remains because I never will ever have these two questions answered, ever. I will never know what the amount of perfection will be and never will know what the limitations of life will take me so I will always remained anonymous to my muse.