A Clean Slate

I will never be as I was before.
My mind, my soul, what makes me more
all wiped clean.
The slate then smashed on the floor
shattered so completely, 
it can never be made whole.
I do not know how to begin again.
I can not seem to find the thread, my pen,
what I need to draw or write a new self.
My words are slowly dying too.
May be I will too.
Would it be a blessing.
But in this too, I am unsure.
If I should live or let go.
The mind which made decisions before,
it is no more.
Indecision. Self doubt. listlessness. despair.
Grip me again.
The flower bud which had dared to bloom
has shrivelled and died in my soul’s gloom.
I’m drowning again.
Hello old friend, welcome pain.
In the end, this is all that will remain.
Till that final breath, blows me out for good...