And I remain in sadness.
Upset over the small things I thought had long passed.
They find their way to creep up my spine,
to settle in my thoughts — not taunting,
yet by their sheer remainder, they drain me.
I wonder, how many years must pass
before they no longer live within me?
No matter how far I push,
how hard I try to rewire my mind,
to craft self-therapeutic refuge —
it lives on, in silence.
And when the day is shrouded in gloom,
when my body lies still and useless,
it screams with a deafening grip.
So I console myself,
as no one else can.
Nov 9, 2025
Nov 9, 2025 at 6:52 AM UTC
And I remain in sadness.
Upset over the small things I thought had long passed.
They find their way to creep up my spine,
to settle in my thoughts — not taunting,
yet by their sheer remainder, they drain me.
I wonder, how many years must pass
before they no longer live within me?
No matter how far I push,
how hard I try to rewire my mind,
to craft self-therapeutic refuge —
it lives on, in silence.
And when the day is shrouded in gloom,
when my body lies still and useless,
it screams with a deafening grip.
So I console myself,
as no one else can.
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