The Cycle

The cycle is a vicious one, it eats away at my mind, like a dog gnawing on a bone.

It has no end, there is nothing lighting my way, it is dark and confusing.

I’m going round and round, trapped in it’s spin.  Sometimes the spin slows enough that the dizziness clears, but mostly it’s out of control, I’m disorientated and can’t think straight.

Outwardly, I look no different.  How can one’s mind be so riddled with disease, such upsetting thoughts, yet my body seems unchanged?

How can no one see the agony I feel?

I try and explain this to professionals, to beg for their help, but I feel unheard.  They don’t know the extent of my desperation, because I have no voice with which to speak of it.

I long for night, for sleep, for oblivion.

I dread the morning, when I have to wake and do this all over again.