Ad Infinitum
"I can make it one more day."
You tell yourself.
Because you have no choice,
Because there are no other
possibilities.
And you present a good face
to the crowd.
But a few can see,
The damage that it's doing
The wounds that you are
ignoring.
But most see no further,
Than the mask,
Artful, all but perfect,
virtually flawless.
Only a few can see,
And they look at you
With worried frowns or annoyed
faces.
"Stop," they say.
Some with concern for your
pain,
Others with frustration
for your self-pity.
And you tighten your mask.
Because you can't stand
the spears of pain,
From hurting others, from
friends annoyance.
"It hasn't killed me
yet." You say
And shrug off those tiny
deaths
That happen everyday.
Until you are so full of
pain, so wounded and torn,
That you feel like you can't
go on,
Until it takes everything
you have to
Wrap yourself in a veneer
of life.
But there is always tomorrow
So you close your eyes to
yourself and say,
"I can make it one
more say."
So you close your eyes to
yourself and say,
"It hasn't killed me yet."