Silence Doesn't Give Answers or Melancholy Relief

(Reason?: To Get it Out)

 

 

I sat in silence

in the half darkened sky of a coming storm

crying, pleading with someone, anyone

to give me an answer.

Really any one will do,

that may give me clarity or insight.

 

I’m tired.

Tired of the confusion, the hurt.

I know it sounds cliched,

but I am beyond desperation,

beyond answers.

In a constant cycle of self-doubt

I am hopeless, regretful.

Forgetful.

 

As the tears dried on my cracked cheeks

revelations hit me, like they so often do,

it’s always the same;

always the end game.

Their tightness keeping me from moving

my face,

like my voice in my throat;

I’ll tread lightly and softly,

with much hesitation, but

silent.

As the tears will come again,

begging an answer,

begging an anyone

to lighten my darkened storm. 

 

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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