Poem: On the Verge

Photo by Dziana Hasanbekava on Pexels.com

I am exhausted from being a daughter, a mother, a teacher, a preacher, a sister, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear

A sounding board, a punching bag, a punchline, a woman, a black woman, an adult, a spiritual being having a human experience, can you hear?

I don’t care what you need from me, I don’t have it to give

Take your blame, take your shame, take my name out of your mouth

I could care less than a damn what you are talking about

Is that harsh? And so are your demands on my time and my mind

I have lost myself and the rage is making me blind

I am on the verge of depression

Miles from a much-needed therapy session

I’m having thoughts about wishing I never existed

Thoughts of why I ever enlisted

To come to this place called earth

Whose idea was it for a rebirth?

I’d scream my head off if I didn’t need it

But I’ll just say I am fine and you’ll believe it

Because nothing can ever be wrong with me

As if you are the only one that needs to be free

Free from responsibility and tasks and drama and reality

I am going to escape this place and dive into fantasy

I’m packing my bags. DO NOT DISTURB. DO NOT WAIT until I get back

Solve it or seek a professional as a matter of fact

I’m on the verge, the verge of change and evolution

I am on the hinge of a permanent solution

I’m going to cry a river and set sail

Inhale, exhale, and wail

by Nicole Jackson

Published by

Nikki

A modern-day Renaissance Woman. A Creative and Spiritual Being. Author of Fiction and Non-fiction. Writer. Fashion. Art. Music. Food. History. Travel. A bit of a philosopher I am told. Dreamer. Entrepreneur.

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