That Sinking Feeling

How can I even begin to describe?...

that sinking feeling...

When the world falls from beneath my feet,

my chest caves in, and I begin to sink‐

and my eyes see desolation in every. single. thing.

—

Here we go again...

Despair's voice rings in my ear and my heart sings for help,

my eyes themselves, have never been more red...

and I myself, have never seen more red‐

from my own voice comes nothing but a dreadful welp.

—

Morning, afternoon or evening is not a concern of this sorrow...

and if it goes today it will surely come again tomorrow‐

Am I permitted to ask?...

"Why does the God of peace allows this cup of internal suffering to remain in front of me?"

In every prayer and every scripture, haunting me is this sinking feeling.

—

How much longer...

will all interest and enjoyment be robbed from me?...

Sleep might as well be void‐

as even when my eyes are closed, Slumber's Absence continues to taunt me to my face‐

there is not a single journal entry describing peace, belonging to me.

—

How many more times...

will I describe what my blood-red eyes see as hell?

I know that what I experience is not literally such, all too well...

If this is a test, I might just fail‐

because the continuous return of, this sinking feeling, is proving to be a repetition that might just be fatal.