If you've been here before you know the tone
That I took four years ago when I began posting poems
It's a tone and topic I'd thought I'd finally grown past
I am dishearted and disappointed when I once again ask:

Why am I alive?
I see no purpose, no joy, no fun in life.
What am I doing here?
Why didn't I end it long before this year?

I am tired. I am impossibly tired and I will be tired impossibly longer
I am done. I want it to end. I am ready to end. I have grown no stronger.
I am still as weak as the child with a knife and far too much strife to stay
I am little more than I was, with the addition of love that wears on me every day.

Why am I alive?
I am no longer despondent when I ponder this.
Why do I exist?
I can't be bothered to breathe with this emptiness.

This will be my last poem for some time, I can't bear to read through my own thoughts.
This will be my existence for more time, I can't make happiness from what is not.
Thank you for reading and commenting and being the sweet people of a poetry site.
I will be here, in a day or a year, to regale you with more of my thoughts of life.