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Find Me

It's not that I live
A blatantly bad life.
I am simply...unhappy.
I have asked myself before,
I have not yet found the answer.
My core rots, my soul has turned
To sludge.
Like old soup left in the cold.
Perhaps that is a bad analogy.
I've never been good with words,
Or expressing myself.
My feeble attempts remain
I don't mind.
At least it helps free the ache.
It's the little things
That take strikes at me.
The barbed wire tightens,
Until my heart is strangled and
Such an...appropriate word for my
State of being.
My insecurity sinks its teeth in,
Vicious and biting.
If only there was a little more time.
Or maybe what I need
Is a little less time.
Now, more than ever,
Seems it sweet
To die.
To cease upon the midnight
With no pain.
No pain.
Ah, that is life's ultimate goal,
Is it not?
To achieve bliss?
To find relief among the suffering?
I can't see the shore yet.
I wonder when I will.
The nausea claws its way
Up my throat.
I don't know what to tell you.
Only this:
My eyes will tell you what you
Should know.
They will tell you what my mouth
You'll just have to learn
To read between the lines.
Maybe if you find me,
I can find myself.
Or is it the other way around?
If I can find myself,
Will you, in turn, come to find
I'm not even sure
Who I'm talking to.
The one who's reading this?
Or the one who broke my heart?
Or maybe just
I think I'm lost.
Find me.

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