I don't know why I write the sad things I write.
Or the lies I tell myself.
Even my tears play a part,
In this emotional rut I call life.
Sometimes it brings me so down,
So low that I feel rooted to the ground.
It's more then paralyzing,
When the answers are just out of my reach,
Mocking me softly.
My inner being just wants to give up,
Start somewhere else,
Or just start completely all over again.
But, I can't.
That's life when good and bad are hand in hand.
So then I ask myself,
'Why sorrow? Why dwell over things you can't change? ...