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Its All I Can Do
Folder:
Pain/Ilness Its all I can do,
to simply rise
with the morning's beckoning,
for this pain
is a hindrence,
which will not be ignored.
My own being
starts out in a revolt,
denying me
simple pleasures of life,
like that of health
and in effect-that of happiness.
Its all I can do
to staunch these screams,
when every moment
is marked by an agony
which can't be measured
by any guideline, nor chart, nor single tear.
Here, I sit,
day after day,
ache after ache
and wonder endlessly,
For what is this meaning?
For why is this suffering?
Its all I can do,
to drive myself onward,
when all I want to do,
is return to a time,
when pain existed not.
Tho, that is now, too far beyond yesterday.
(and even harder to remember)
Its a tiring monotony,
living as such,
when nothing eases
this chronic state
and I've become to damned pained
to much longer care.
Its all I can do,
to merely survive,
yet another,
endless and agonizing cycle,
that is this-
my daily, so-called life.
