A Series Of Desperate Moments Poem by Eillio Imbasciati

Makes no sense, it's all past tense,
Where did the feeling go?
Another day, another way,
Yet it all feels like less than before
A series of desperate moments which only double the anxiety,
Which create their own obstacles and write their own tragedy,
It's all too overwhelming at times
The present hasn't been a gift,
Nor has the emerging realization that there isn't an expiration date on sadness,
So what remains are eyes which will run for a few miles,
Stopping every few minutes to dry up