It's like every creative bone
In my body has cracked and dried.

Artist's osteoporosis.

Turning into hollowed shells
And even typing this now
Feels dead and empty.
As if pointless
Because there is no heart.

I crash all too often
With no idea how to get back up.

I'm tired.
So soul tired that nothing ******* matters.
Yet it's funny to me the way my anxiety reminds me constantly
Of everything I'm terrified to lose.

It's like I can never win with you
Brain.

It's always a lose-lose
And the positive affirmations always feels
Like drinking medicine.

Sickly sweet and a fake *** remedy.

My soul cried in agony.
In pure confusion she cried.

"Why can't you just love me?"
"Why can't you feel with me?"
"Why am I alone in this?"
"Why can't you find me?"
"Why can't you see me when I'm right here?"
"Why!?"

There she was, laying on her lover yet
Drenched in despair and pure heartbreak, bitter at her lack of understanding;
With the constant why's finally raining down on her in a flash flood downpour,
Reaching..
reaching with her entire being while being soaked in sorrow, hoping to God she can keep her head above the water and not get swept away by the tide,
  he whispered,

"I'm trying."

That's when the storm immediately stopped,
. . .
Muffled silence filled the air with peace in heart
As the sun finally peaked
Through the clouds.