(WHY) I GO

Down on calloused hands and knees.
Beneath blood red skies.
My tears are flowing.
Leaving crimson stains on my face.
My heart and soul are crying out.
Oh how they ache.
Oh how I ache.
Grief and sorrow stifle me.
My mouth is dry.
I cannot swallow.
I am an open grave.
I am swallowed whole.
The darkness envelopes me.
I am overwhelmed by despair.
I become angry.
My fury unleashes itself.
My rage goes forth.
As I tear my way out of this grave.
I was never dead anyway.
I turn to see my grave swallow itself
   whole.
It has defeated itself.
Death is no more.
Still I feel the pain.
The self-destructiveness returns.
It's so easy for me.
When I hate all that I am and
   who I am at times.
I still feel drawn back down.
Six feet does not seem that far down.
But I turn away.
I get up and stand.
I will not accept this for me.
I deserve so much more.
I AM so much more!
I will not let all this defeat me,
   NO, not any more!
I will not be pulled down again.
I was blind, but no longer,
   now I am seeing.
The crimson stains will fade.
But they will always remain.
Right with all of my scars.
Which I will not hide.
I will bear them proud.
They are badges of honour to me.
They tell the story of my so-called
   life.
My heart and soul, torn, still ache.
That's why I need saving grace
   as I do.
I cannot do this alone.
I would surely return to the grave
   if left alone.
Hope is all that I have.
And I will hold steadfast to it.
As I push through all the thorns
   before me.
They cut and rip me, but I have been
   through worse.
I still hold onto my hope.
Nothing will tear it from my grasp.
Hope holds onto me.
I know I will never be let down.
Even though I may forget from time
   to time.
So let the skies bleed red.
Let the earth be scorched.
I will keep on.
I will walk on.
I will press forward.
I will fall again, but I will pick myself
   up and carry on.
So let the world fall down on me.
Mine is already in ruins.
What could come my way that could
   be worse?
I have been through hell.
I was burned.
But I made it through.
And here I am.
Bruised and cut.
Let the healing begin.
As I keep moving on.
Throwing all the grief and sorrow off
   to the side.
Leaving them to rot and decay.
Weary I am.
Worn and weathered.
Cracked and chapped.
Still, I am still.
I am sound.
I will not fear.
I just want to go home.
I will fight with all that I am.
Even to the very end.
I will not quit.
I will not give up or even give in.
My resolve is solid.
And grows even more so with each day.
I have my hope.
It's all I really have.
It's what keeps me.
And so I go.
I go!

SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY