Motions Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Going through the motions of life, attempting some
normalcy in everyday living.

Constriving for continuity, enlarging horizons,
focusing on unfocused ideas and thoughts, all seems
for naught.

Going through the motions of life each day are
meaningless, done only because they are being done,
no other reasons.

Nothing seems to touch me, no matter what I do,
emotionally I am numb, intellectually am on another
level.

Physically, I can't begin to say, spiritually being
on another plain, already living after-death.

Meaningless activities facing me each morning,
getting up anyway, performing every one of them.

Finding no joy or fulfillment anywhere, even though
others say it's so.

They cannot see into my mind, yet they reject this
way of thought and classify me into their neat little
category of depression.

Although that is not where I belong, because I'm just
facing the reality of life and finding nothing there,
contemplating glad tidings of death.

So there is my reason for living, to die, and no one
understands me because of that.