Lost

Struggle

The pen won't touch the paper.

You can try to force it, but it will fail you

If you try to make it write things it does not know how to say.

It is easy to write about pain, it bleeds out of every pore.

But to toss yourself into a world you are resisting,

To feign interest in things that no longer seem relevant to your lost identity,

It is as foolish as telling a child on a sugar high to calm down.

It's truly amazing how used to the turmoil you can be.

What is terrifying, however, is when the darkness consumes you

To the point where you struggle to think one single thought.

There is a new kind of lost involved,

When you can't even do the one thing  you're good at.

There is no greater struggle than failing at the only thing

That you always believed you could count on to distract you.

If you cannot throw everything into getting lost in your work,

You feel as if you'll never get through anything again.

And that is the worst kind of struggle,

The impending realization that all of the fight you had left in you

Is gone.