Held Within the Grasp of Despair
Elliott Sansom
Sweat drops in beads between his whitened fingers
Pressed with all might against his forehead
Questions rear their ugly heads in hydra like fashion
A thousand sleepless nights have preceded this moment
A thousand uncut wounds have preceded this need
Before the day is done, sanity falters
Inescapable internal torment
Every action equally apathetic
Depressing, overtly manic
Held within in the grasp of despair
Watching from the sidelines, as his mind slips further from grace, with increasing resolve
Helpless to arrest the plunge, he knows what he's become.
From this day till the end of his days
