Impassive
Impassive
Like a fog setting
On a barren field
Sorrow engulfs me
Like an impenetrable shield
I feel like a zombie
As if a part of me died
No one can even tell that
I am crying inside
This depression sets in
As I finish the school day
I ride the bus home
Get off and walk away
It comes without reason
Too complicated to understand why
No emotion shown on this face
Except once and a while, a sigh
I push the sorrow way far back
Keep those emotions chained
Forget about it for right now
Later it will rain…
I walk down my driveway
Enter the house a little wind blown
I go about my chores for the day
Walk around the house home alone
I turn on some music
Sing with it real loud
I’ve got to make myself happy
Drown the world with all the sound
I start to get a headache
Go to my parent’s bathroom
Open the cabinet getting Advil
That’s when the idea starts to bloom
I stare into the mirror
Dump the whole contents in my hand
I consider swallowing them all for a moment
Stand there alone, looking bland
I shake my head entering reality
Get away from those thoughts
I empty my hand of all but one pill
Walk down the hall ignoring those inner taunts
I feel perfectly normal
Scared but other than that nothing happened
Go to my bathroom to swallow the one pill
I have a headache to mend
Suddenly my lips start to quiver
I tremble and then start to shake
All the sudden I collapse
Tears pouring down my face
I sob uncontrollably
A helpless long lost case
I grab hold of my sink countertop
Look at my contorted reddened face
I try to form words between sobs
“God…help me…” I mumble
I can’t look at my face anymore
Run out of the bathroom in a stumble
After two minutes it’s over
Eyes still wet from the emotional pain
I go back as if nothing ever happened
As if I had never felt the rain…
This is a true story
Happened this very day
All because I kept my feelings to myself
Kept them locked away
There’s really nothing else to say
Except that it isn’t over
One day I might do more than stare
I just hope I’ll be a little more sober
—Mark Lenig
March 30, 2001
