Endless fatigue that never lets up
The desire to sleep eternally in peace
Denied by meddling of those that keep me awake
No rest, increasing insanity.

Lectures that have been given countless times
Warnings that are told out of requirement rather than worry
An endless cycle of depression
To which fuels my writing.

People fear for my life they do proclaim
Some I believe, some I deny the words they speak

I tell those I believe that my life is not important
But my writing is the most important thing to me.

An artist must suffer for his works
I shall suffer for my writing
If the writing begins to vanish
So shall a release from my depressions.

Writing is my only purpose
A mental need, my only ambition
To be a writer I need the inspiration
And I believe depression is that inspiration.

The voices will be endured
Even if I must face them without a shield
From melancholia and suicidal thoughts
To write of James and Nikita and their strife.

I believe they are my future
My one escape from total failure
I have told myself in time
That they would be my one achievement worth notice.

To be recognized as a successful author
Is my goal in life
No matter what happens later, if I do not achieve that recognition
Then it will be all for not.

So I shall continue to write
About the endless void of the world of Gaius
Perhaps books will pile up like ideas
If I can only hold on.

Learn more about this author, Michael Stachnik.
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