A Poem of What was life

Many things have happened . . .

none of the good . . .

they change a person . . .

i have changed.

When once i was full of dreams . . .

and passion . . .

and life . . .

and eagerness.

Now I see only darkness . . .

feel only pain . . .

and am so tired.

Tired of trying . . .

of trying . . .

of dreaming . . .

of being the person

Many come . . .

promising words . . .

hopeful expressions . . .

words of encouragement . . .

some want to fix the broken.

It is cold.

dark.

the head hurts.

the heart aches.

Deeply have i given . . .

nothing held back . . .

a piece is taken . . .

a chunk removed . . .

whittled away . . .

left to wither.

Till nothing is left . . .

a private hell . . .

a quite aching . . .

darkness covers what is left.

Is he still a person that once was . . .

the manners he holds . . .

the dignity that is shown . . .

the goodness that is done.

It remembers not so long ago . . .

full of hope . . .

full of promise . . .

full of life . . .

full of dreams . . .

full of strength.

To once again dance the dreams . . .

to dance for life . . .

to dance of hope.

yet here he is.

numb

broken

hurt