By my own hand: Poem

I can't help it.

I breathe, but the air bubbles in my lungs.

I can't stop it.

The pressure builds and blocks out the sun.

I don't want it.

It sits upon my chest, my vale of stone.

I don't trust it.

The chameleon of truth cannot atone.

I won't use it.

My vision is skewed by hate.

I won't condone it.

My blood spills from fate.

I must step once

I must move twice

I must continue again

I must pull myself up

I must reach out of the darkness.

I must free myself from the muck.

I failed again, by my own hand.