I’m So Done
I’m so done, I whisper to the night,
With shadows pressing in, they squeeze too tight.
My weary bones, they creak like ancient wood,
In a world where I once stood, I no longer could.
The weight I’ve carried, now stark and unreal,
Drains the last drops of my spirit's zeal.
Each heartbeat's a reminder, each breath a fight,
In the stillness of dark, I've lost all light.
I’ve danced with numbness, a comforting friend,
A veil that wrapped me, promising the end.
But now it slips, like sand through my hands,
And echoes of sorrow return in bands.
The ghosts of old wounds crawl under my skin,
Memories whispered, where silence begins.
What I thought I'd buried, what I thought was gone,
Rises like shadows at the break of dawn.
I’m so done with the thunder, this storm in my chest,
With thoughts that unravel, never letting me rest.
Each moment a battle, each second a chain,
It’s a marathon of anguish; I’m tired of the pain.
Will the dawn bring comfort, or just more despair?
The weight of the world, too heavy to bear.
Yet still, there's a flicker, a soft, whispered plea,
For healing, for solace—could it ever be me?
I’m so done, I admit with a sigh,
As I let go of the numbness, no more to deny.
But in this unraveling, perhaps I'll find light,
In weaving my story through shadow and fight.