Small

Take my hand,
before I float away,
and don’t hesitate,
if you have something to say.

Please do not kick me,
I’m down far enough,
and if I fall any deeper,
then I might not get up.

You can see that I’m struggling,
to get out of this pit,
but the footholds are weak,
and covered in grit.

Every time I climb higher,
something breaks and I slip,
but can’t you see I’m still trying,
and haven’t gave up my grip?

Can’t you see that I’m bleeding,
and it hurts more than I say?
Can’t you see that I’m tired,
and grow more so each day?

You don’t have to save me,
or even take my hand,
just please don’t berate me,
for what you don’t understand.

You don’t have to scream,
for I know what I’ve done.
Just know I’m still inside,
when the monster is done.

I’m trapped in the wreckage,
and damage left behind.
The grief and the sorrow,
of losing ones mind.

I’ll continue to climb,
and one day I won’t fall.
Till then I just ask you,
please don’t make me feel small.