Confused,
Scared,
Unbelieving in myself.

At times,
I hate myself,
Hate my life.

I roam through it,
An unseeing coward,
Afraid of taking the next step.

I do not know who I am,
But what I am now,
I do not like.

I sometimes wish
That I were dead,
And my life ended.

Then would I be happy
Then would I be at peace
And deep within the arms of darkness.

But I do not feel the call,
The need to end it all
By death himself.

I have a purpose
And as yet I don’t know what
But I must need to suffer.

I must endure
The long nights
And the even longer days.

And survive
To do what
I am meant to do.