CALL ME DEAD

Living hurts so very much.

The storms in my life always tear me down and I am carried away.

I am beat and battered.

Left in tatters.

My foundation is still intact.

Although cracked and crumbling.

My tears fall like the driven rain against me.

What good are these walls if I've no roof over my head?

I have no shelter.

No refuge to seek.

No one to take me in.

It's all so very hard to take.

The pain can be excruciating.

It is all consuming just as a forest fire would all the trees.

I live all this over and over.

Waiting for a tomorrow that never comes.

I know not of love.

Only that it hurts.

It bites and leaves its' mark.

A wound that bleeds.

It will not coagulate.

No scab forms.

It bleeds me of all life.

Inside I feel so dry.

My heart corrodes.

My mind is seized.

My soul is in atrophy.

It's just too much for one man to take.

God, would You mind if I just went away?

How is this existence?

I am burning.

Oh, I burn.

No light will ever pierce this dark.

Time keeps me prisoner.

Allowing no healing to ever come to me.

I put my fist to the wall.

I am the only one who breaks.

I am the only one who falls down.

I am left in ruins.

Alone and desolate.

If this is my life, then call me dead.

SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY