There are no words to say,
except those I can’t bear to speak.
Lying here alone –
Exhausted, scared, weak.
Not sure where to turn
or which road is best to take,
and I’ve got to stay hidden from you
because I’m just too tired to fake,
another smile or hello
or to rise up out of this pit,
and pretend I’m a superhero –
who isn’t scared a bit.
The truth is I’m terrified –
surrounded by daunting unknowns.
But I don’t want to speak the fear,
so I curl up and journal alone.
The flashes of life that’s been missed,
and what further stands to be lost,
or the plan I see laid out for me,
weighing each turn and its cost.
It’s better if I can sleep,
and hide from this ache in my heart,
this journey I don’t want to travel,
or where I should stop or start.
‘Curse God, and die,’ they said to Job,
maybe that was my mistake,
an explanation of suffering,
an answer for wrath and His hate.
Even this writing seems futile,
a petal tossed in the wind,
even though it’s still early,
I can’t help but fear the end.