Tired and weary,
I say to myself: Get a move on, get a move on.
I had to fight. I have to understand.
I need to know what I am worthy of.
If I am enough, or simply not.
Not a soul can read the words I speak of.
Too many sacrifices done, and still, nothing.
It breaks me. Tears me apart.
And when I thought I was rescued,
I drowned some more.
Its weight pushes me to the ground.
Pierces through my hollow skin;
Burns it and leaves me scarred.
Too much or too little,
I have lost count.
In this unfamiliar turf,
I bowed down.
Thus, I let the grief wash over me.
But I have yet, to give up.
Long before,
It takes all of me --- consumed.
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