It's funny being berated for being too busy,
It's funny being told I do too much for others,
Or that I cannot save everyone,
That not everyone wants my help,
That some do not deserve it
And that I should rest
Before I burn out,

What those self righteous,
Albeit well meaning in their way,
Characters do not know,
Cannot know having never done
Such as I do every day,
Is it never burns you out
To help a fellow soul,

They do not know the reward
That the occasional acknowledgement,
Or simple "thanks" bestows,
Or how it charges batteries
Back to fully fit,
However low
They may have been,

But in one respect,
Although they do not know it,
My judges and detractors are
Painfully correct,
For though I burn my candles
Both ends and middle
And show no ill effect,

I have just realised as I sit here
Sad and lonely,
Heavy in heart and my usual
Confident footsteps slowed,
I could really use a chat myself with someone,
A sounding board to hear
Perhaps a hug receive,

But right now

There is,

Noone

Hands on my throat always crushing me down, putting me out, and turning me on
I don't know how you got here but won't you stay and laugh dear
Know one needs to know what we do when we're alone
She don't even miss you and he will never know
Intoxicatingly delicious, so much so it's suspicious
How can you taste so good when the flavor's all wrong
Not sure what I'm doing but I promise I won't stay long
Pin me, choke me, bruise me colorful until I'm pacified
Scream until your throat bleeds every time your heart beats
Necromancy not love, just enough to pretend we're alive
Our fingertips glow in red hot brands leaving us hissing
Cut open from sharp tongues clashing and kissing
Leave through the window never the door
Or you might knock again and ask me for more

Almost out of energy.
Almost out of time.
Almost out of patience.
Almost out of rhymes.
Almost out of love.
Almost out of space.
Almost ready to give up
and leave this wretched place.
But every time I feel I'm ready to say goodbye,
I think about all the people
I'd have to leave behind.
I think about all the memories
that would be erased.
Some good. Others bad.
I think about all the adventures
I'd never get to have.
Life can be exhausting. Painful.
So I can understand why you'd want it to end.
But take it from me.
You never know what you'll miss.
You never know who will miss you.
And you never know
What's just around the river bend.

Self-love is a zone prohibiting the entrances of painful solitude state and inferiority complex.

© Spriha Kant

There is a reason water is clear, and blood is crimson,                                                                                                             for it would be far too painful to try and see the truth in your veins.

I will sleep with
       my eyes  o p e n .
I will breathe  u n d e r w a t e r .
I will drink my coffee  c o l d  if that is
what it takes to become less like  y o u .
The thought of being like you is so  p a i n f u l , I'd
rather  d r o w n .
Loving you is the most painful memory-I'd rather
p e e l  off my skin in the places you left your kisses. The places
you bit and licked and left your
l o v e .
Some say, "it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all."
I cannot bring myself to agree with such words, because the pain of loosing you
was far too much to bear than the idea of never having known you.
Call me a ******* coward for running away from this pain,
but if I have to face it another day,
I would rather
d i e.