We Go Again

With blankness comes abject hatred toward the things once viewed sacred, now insipid and jaded. Misery takes hold, and you fold staring toward an endless opening waiting to unfold the unpleasantries untold. The pressure of inadequacy surmounts, for which mind and body vessel alike, fail to account. Moments by a mirror bare a figure you scarcely recognise, and lonesome you travel through the motions on a cart lacking locomotion. Days have no numbers, one and the same exhibiting the same pain coming again.

An endless cycle, Sisyphus like struggle you endure. Though intentions pure, you beat on with the future so sure. Solace is found in the moments between crests where you find time to rest and enjoy life’s best. Before it’s time to go again.