Cold is setting in to the city
as this feeling seeps in
   so deep.
Mists of misery engulf me
and grey once again covers the skies
filtering the color and joy from my eyes.

I've grown so tired
so alone
so mired in my misery.
I get ******
I breathe a little softer
I think a little less
about how I feel.

I conjure images of mountains
and me on top
a teetering soul dying to lean
just enough to the side
then I'll slip & drop.

The sweet end to this
would be so welcome.
I'm tired of hurting;
tired of this ******* pain.
I'm sick of wishing it were over

101309~5.9p