Truth without Poetry

I feel hopeless; things will never get better.
I give up on thinking that this will not last.

I feel useless; this is my final letter.
Everything I have done well is in the past.

I feel purposeless; I can find no reason
Everywhere I am, the landscape is strange.

I feel powerlessness; I have no control
The things that endow my misery, I cannot change.

I feel helpless; abandoned and stranded
There is nothing I can do to alter my fate.

I feel worthless; I add little value
To the people I love the most, I am a weight.

And despite how I try to muster my once solid will
The things that used to excite me have lost all the thrill.
I feel ashamed and hate myself most of the time
And the worst of it is I am not honest about it, except in this rhyme.