Tired

Grief has made me apathetic to my own existence.
With faults enthusiasm I get get up everyday and live my life,
not caring if I fool anyone with the smile I wear.
I know I am not fooling myself.
.
I am tired of loosing people, I am tired of all the loss my soul has suffered.
Years and time just chip away at me in the form of fatality.
Whether death or distance the people in my life just seam to slip away
and I find myself alone and wondering if I want to bother inviting in someone new.
.
Sometimes the wounds are just too deep and so the desire eludes me.
If I don’t have anyone there, then there is no one to lose.
The balance between lonely and alone teeters on a point
to fragile to depend on, to sharp to avoid.
.
I converse with my plants, make friends in my book,
eat dinner alone, and chat via a black and white device
which often misunderstands my voice sending cryptic messages into the either.
.
I look to the sea for diversity and healing, knowing there is only the tide to rely on
I just need to pull away and hide to mend.
Alone in my cave I desire the reassurance that life is not so bad.
Thinking time alone will heal me.
.
To tired to ask for help instead I just ride it out in this exile from life.
Besides who could I ask, that one person really does not exist in my world.
The person who can hug me and make me feel like it is worth it all.
The one who can make me believe that for now it will be alright.
.
I need a dark angle a mother, a lover, a friend, who strength matches mine in every way;
one who like me has walked to the gates of hell and come back again;
one who knows I will be strong again for them someday but
resist leaning on me as much as I hate leaning on them.
.
I think I need sleep…..

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