Most days I’m just so fucking sick of living

And that darkness fills me up like the Holy Spirit

I hate the face that I see in the mirror

My cheeks are hollow, my hair is getting thinner

And it’s like my head’s got the devil in it

Waking up fills me with so much terror

Life’s a fucking game that I can never win at

The cards are stacked against me by a crooked dealer

All the things I’ve done, Jesus, I regret it

I’ve been running all my life but there is no forgetting

Only scars and this weight I carry

All the secrets that I thought I’d buried

The dreams of a better life miscarried

Everything I could have been

Now just words in an obituary

Posted by Charl Mijnhardt

Charl Mijnhardt is an established freelance writer with a special interest in wellness and mental health. He is also an experienced technical writer with many years' experience writing for the security industry. He currently lives in South Africa with his wife, Nastasia, and his cat, Gizmo. Hire him to write engaging copy for your website, blog, e-book, newsletter or marketing communications.

4 Comments

  1. I have been following your work for a long time. Your words still fall right out of your heart onto the paper. I love how honest your work is. I’m sure I speak for a lot of people when I say this and, personally, I know this much: your way with words sculpts a picture in one’s mind and brings out raw feelings, as raw as each word that’s taken in. Heartbreaking as the subject matter may be -a piece of art it is, none the less.

    Reply

    1. Charl Mijnhardt March 30, 2019 at 7:13 am

      Thank you so, so much, Juanita. Your words mean everything to me ❤️

      Reply

      1. Charl Mijnhardt March 30, 2019 at 7:19 am

        Especially coming from an extraordinary artist such as yourself.

        Reply

        1. Humbled, thank you.

          Reply

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