Hunger (Morning)

When the only way to cope with a bad day, is through, writing. First of 4, all written 8/6/21.

So much pain, I feel totally broken,

Can what's inside, ever be spoken?

For me, I see, happiness is a lie,

A heavy burden, waiting for me to die.

I had so much promise, and potential,

But a brutal life, has made me mental.

How much more of this, can I take?

Before my mind, finally breaks?

I cannot sleep, I cannot eat,

Feeling nothing, but constant defeat.

The harder I try, to do things right,

More the world, pushes back in spite.

I keep looking, for love to inspire,

For one, to invoke, the heavenly choir.

All I find, is emptiness, inside myself,

Nothing to replenish, my failing health. 

How much longer, until there is sustenance?

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I am sure these words are very relevant and relatable to many writers here. As stark and bleak as they are there is a truth to them that is heartfelt. But what you are doing in your writing is brave and honest. As well s cathartic. You're a writer and this is your expression and view of the world you exist in. Despite the difficulty that time presents art is no more needed then these very moments my friend. Be that voice as hard as it may be at times. Inspire others from your art, even in the darkest words there is something of meaning there. Be who you are meant to be. A good human being and a writer. Thank you for sharing your art.