My life is not sad; but i find that i am.
I have failed to catch up or prove that I can,
It just seems to drag on, to pull, its own strings,
Where mine are de-strung, detached, so I sling.
My chin will not lift, my eyes will not open,
As if something inside me lies empty and broken.
No light will here shine, no fresh wind blow through,
As I sit and i lie, wading in hopes, scattered ‘skew.
Not that I don’t try, and not that I succumb,
Quite simply not able, sans energy, fully numb.