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After 2 years of what I already thought could be the lowest my life can get, he won’t respond to me.

I reach out, with open arms, but just like prayer, I get no answer.

I know you blame me for your loss, our loss.

I don’t understand why, but I already accept it.

My pain is like a cancer in metastasis, spreading throughout me further with each passing day.

I am a prisoner of my own mind.

My thoughts racing a mile a second.

I am shaken and on the edge.

Constantly anxious and constantly sick.

I am a hollow, vestigial remnant of my former self.

Wallowing in a pool of vomit.

I function on prescribed chemicals, I’m hardly even human.

How can my son even accept me, a drone mentally enslaved by a daily capsule.

Wallowing in misery.

I don’t want this, my life. All I want is you.