The Dead Of Night

I feel it most in the dead of night
The onslaught of pain that’s impossible to fight
A tidal wave of terror rips through my soul
An unfolding tragedy beyond my control

Laying there motionless with nothing but time
Saddened by the plummet after an agonizing climb
Paralyzed with guilt, the kind that just won’t leave
Pent up with so much frustration you would not believe

Thwarted by a dilemma of impossible doom
The depression swimming endlessly in this suffocating room
Intensifying the loathing that’s been building for years
Replacing all that passion with unrelenting fears

Feeling so isolated and completely disconnected
A hibernating monster who lives undetected
Fiercely struggling with the unbearable truth
That all my best days were left behind in my youth

Confined to a state of demented design
The only witness to a precipitous decline
Long severed ties from the world out there
When thinking of its inhabitants, I can’t help but glare

I attempted to reach out in search of support
But there was no interest, I’m unhappy to report
All those chances to impress but I always choked
My accessing privileges have long been revoked

There hasn’t been a moment where I haven’t thought
About the hardest lesson this life has taught
You can act and speak in the friendliest tone
And still end up feeling so very alone

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Saturday, April 21, 2012
5:03 p.m.

Published in: on April 21, 2012 at 5:04 pm  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Hi Dennis,
    This is the saddest poem. I’m really sorry you feel this way and hope things get better for you soon. You may need some help (beyond what you can get on the Internet).
    Take care,

    • Thanks for the sweet concern, Elaine. Despite the intended bleakness (which is far more fiction than reality) I can assure you things are not as bad as they sound. In fact, they’re not so bad at all. 🙂

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