Each day is a day like day had before
I don't know if I can take anymore
There's pain in my bones; Weak feeling and sore
I question myself what this life is for

Don't know what's ahead; Don't know what's in store
As happiness hides behind a locked door
The pressure, it builds to find it before
The hourglass now has emptied what's stored

The light from me left; Although I'm not sure
If ever I had a light that was pure
My soul's on death's bed; No hope of a cure
The word's left unsaid; I'll always want more

Waves lapping against the rocky beach shore
Each time takes away; A heavenly chore
Was true of my joy; A tunnel was bored
Inside from my soul true self of me poured

I ******* out myself like a *****
Each day is a lie that I can't afford
I wish I was maimed; Insides had been gored
I can not explain; Knight falls on his sword

But I am no knight; More like one who's poor
Been chewed up, discarded; Fruit with no core
Tried sharing with you; A piece of me tore
But know you disliked; Did nothing but bore

This poem is not new; These words said before
I've whined and cried too like those I deplore
A task left to do; Must settle the score
Each day starts anew; Be happy once more

There are worse things
than a broken heart
but to a romantic
to a poet soul
it's fuel, it's fodder
we keep scratching the scab off
and fingerpainting in the pool of our own blood