At what point
do you cut your losses
and yourself
and say,
this is not living?
I could easily
with no hesitation
end it today
and feel
I did the right thing
because one can only
take so much
of losing
before it burns
all the joy out of life
like the sun
clearing the fog
on a summer’s morning.
It seems harder
to remain alive
with the continuous barrage
of rocks
thrown my way,
stoned but not feeling
empty but fed up
cut yet no longer bleeding.
I’ve loved
I’ve laughed
I’ve cried
I’ve held hate in my hands
I’ve bled contentment
and still it’s not enough
to feel alive
or worth it.
I’ve given all I can
all I have
with nothing in return.
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