another pen runs out of ink,
your cup is empty.
and your eyes see a desert.
it's 5:33am and you're wide awake
but your body aches
and your chest is heavy
and yet again your find yourself
bombed, and hurt.
but no one hurt you.
your mind continues to linger in the past
haunting your every move.
it's screaming "you've ****** up"
and you know it speaks the truth.
because why else would you feel the way you do?
you turn on the radio, loud as it can go
to drown out  the mutters
of disappointment
but nothing helps
because you're internally
scratching and clawing at yourself.
"what can I do?" "make it stop"
no, there is nothing.
so you sit in your own dismay
and you wait for a distant change
that you may never see.