I'm stuck here in my sense of defeat.
I should collapse. I should retreat.
I should give up.
I don't know why,
I even roll out of bed sometimes.
Woe is me
I'm so melancholy.
And your all invited to my pity party.
Now I'm finally calm.
The waters still.
The storms have past.
Puddles filled.
Get out of the dirt.
Leave the dark room.
Isolation is the farthest thing from a tool.