Sometimes I can't be anything but sad.
I don't want to find a reason, or try
to find the light,
I just want to feel,
and allow the truth of reality to sink in.
I'm scared of what the future will be,
and what else I'll have to go through.
I'm exhausted, tired of enduring,
I feel old, ever so old,
centuries lived, centuries weathered.
The intensity of it hits me hard,
and I gasp from the sheer feeling of it.
I can't breathe, can't move,
only let the sobs pummel me again,
I only let it out when I'm alone
with my shadow,
No peering eyes, no sympathy,
just me and my sorrow.
And as I sit there, I wonder what I'll be
like years from now.
-Esther L. Krenzin-