Written while in a deep depression.

I'll greet you with a smile and a kiss,
Yet pieces of me are falling through the cracks.
Small slivers of useless pieces.
Minor stuff . . .
Like the negative attitude and the perpetual frown.
The fortress around my inner self
Has yet to be breached.
The real me, the soft me, the me that hurts . . .
The me who wants to be held, touched, loved . . .
The me who cares much too deeply, or not quite enough.
A piece of me longs to give . . . and be given.
No more time.
My softer self, I will not reveal.
Out of time, desire, and possibilities.
As I look down the barrel
I see peaceful eternity.
The inability to feel, the inability to trust,
The inability to love.
Instead, quiet solitude.
Quiet rest. A violent ending . . .
Leading to a quiet eternity.