Poem To Self Poem by Matthew Boisjolie

Life throws you around,
and forces you to choose,
from a lot of different options,
which one is best?
which one will hurt less,
which one will make it go away,
and yet we are left with no answers,
no clues,
no path leading to that chosen place,
no internal notion to push in a general direction,
so we sit and wonder what to do,
and we decay inside from the hurt,
the chaos, the insanity that is going on,
our heart stops when we see what's going on,
and yet we are left, as always,
to take it, and take it, and take more,
until our heads explode, and all hell breaks loose.

Grip of steel hold on to life and it spins,
yet over the course of the past 4 months,
my strength is lowering,
and my muscles burn from the torment,
the torture to my soul, my heart, and my mind,
emotional distraught like a horse,
walking in circles, all day,
and done like a 20 minute old pizza,
up, down, right, wrong,
with all this in my eyes,
i slowly begin to shut down.