What Now?

I don’t know where I stand.

I know where I fall,

when the strings of my thrall,

push my knees to the sand;

my weight impacts land

because the terrain

that my toes hugged so dearly has shifted.

I am not gifted.

I’m a soul left adrift,

With mangled heeds to sift.

My psyche is raging,

waiting,

for a moment to lift

the cell door it seals shut;

controlled by the scorn of the glut

of firm apprehension,

of constant suppression,

episodic depression,

let me ask you a question.

What now?

When my quarrel rings useless,

and the wine says to use less.

My mind knows not lucid.

I don't know how to do this...

My hope earned to falter,

for the message you palter

forces my head to spin

and I know I could never win;

my restlessness: a sin.

But what have you offered

to make this girl's coffers

be emptied of worriment

and filled with encouragement?

Tell her to do her best,

impel the weight off her chest,

help her to get some rest,

share cheat codes for this test,

file for the pain's arrest,

let her know she is blessed!

What now?

Keep your head held high

for the stupendous is nigh,

and at night you can cry,

let the salt wash your eye

for so long you've been blind;

your surroundings unkind,

but this is the end.

Reach your hand to a friend.

Degrade the old habit.

You're no longer penned.

Rid yourself of the grime.

No hesitation,

just one step at a time.

What now?

You fight.