Nothing Left Of My Humanity Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Nothing Left Of My Humanity
Being sick and tired of everything, finding no joy or
purpose in rising in the morning.
Watching the miracle of life changing our night into
daylight, yet it doesn't find it's way into realigning
my attitude.
Looking down and out, being so lonely, isolating in
a netherworld of another space and time, certainty and
a positive mood do not fit in with who I am tonight.
Being sick and tired of everything, finding no purpose
or joy, dying to the essence of who I was, nothing left
of my humanity at all for now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 3:53:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Wow! I can relate to this poem! For me it didn't last for long, here is my best medication: Words. Poems. Images. Pictures. Paintings. Music. Art will remind of life, of own matter, poems can bring to any space and time. And if none of those worked I just had some whispers with a river, a tree or a stone...