I am losing myself
Withering away
Each day
Everyday.

I am stuck
I can’t move
I hurt others
While I hurt me too.

I stand, unmoving---
In this wretched place
In the midst of darkness
In this open space.

I don’t know how to let it out
Everything within me
All the grief, all the woe
Every heartache, it doesn’t go
Away from me.

Nobody can save me now
It’s all too late
I keep on writing about it
A little wish
Help me escape.

I’ve have reached the end of the page
Now
I don’t know what’s next
Misery has wrapped its arms around me
Misery has even scared death.

It’s November
And everything I feel within
Is what I see around,
The coalescing fog,
The turbidity of clouds,
Coldness enveloping itself again,
Before the trees; wilting leaves bow,
As I stand there, I feel understood,
It’s November,
Hence I am not alone
in the woods

if you have to write about it all,
would you dare to hold the pen?

Isn't grace found in the smallest of things,
In hands that reach, and hearts that sing?
They capture the beauty of divine,
In acts of care, in silence that rings.

The warmth of tea, the crisp of cucumber,
And the words that softly glow.
Friendship, a prayer answered,
A love that continues to grow

And may this love never end,
Let it shine in the dark,
Don't make it stiff, let it bend,
Let it stay in your heart

Forever, may this friendship flow,
In every hardship, your sole strength,
Let it make yourself whole,
So that it's there when everything ends