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What do I do,
when the odds of failure is stacked against me with low return,
when the tables of everyday living turns sharp as a fresh blade,
when the bridges I built for others crash and burn to the soil.

What do I do,
when the past memories of depression haunts me like a bloody terror scene,
when the skeletons bust out the closet like a swat team with a hundred rounds,
when my defeated demons rise from the dead and attack my only soul left to fight.

What do I do,
when my brightest mind turn black as my heart towards the flame of anger,
when my emotions become numb as anesthesia to the brain,
when my expressive voice becomes silent as the moment given.

What do I do,
when I stand on my ground that I built with the hands of God,
when I shout my inner rage to the enemies below my stature,
when I offer my repentance of the damage I created throughout the suffering years of youth.

What do I do,
when there is nothing else left to do.