The Truth
I don't know how
I should begin
the truth about
this pain within.
It stings to breathe;
it smarts to grin.
This wretched fight
I cannot win.
It burns to laugh;
it aches to weep.
The only painless thing
is sleep.
So sleep I will,
long as I can,
and when I awake
I'll bleed again.
And on, and on,
until I find
a way to sleep
most all the time.
One-third my years
is not enough
to slake the ache
that makes life tough.
So each daybreak,
with groan and sigh,
I rise to find
night has passed by.
The beast of ages
lies under my bed,
stretching his claws
and rearing his head.
He's balefully scheming
and plotting away
the damage he'll do
with each passing day.
So helpless and hopeless
I write this to tell
you don't have to die
to experience hell.
Copyright © Nicole Engle | Year Posted 2011
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