Its All I Can Do


Its all I can do,

to simply rise

with the morning's beckoning,

for this pain

is a hindrence,

which will not be ignored.

My own being

starts out in a revolt,

denying me

simple pleasures of life,

like that of health

and in effect-that of happiness.

Its all I can do

to staunch these screams,

when every moment

is marked by an agony

which can't be measured

by any guideline, nor chart, nor single tear.

Here, I sit,

day after day,

ache after ache

and wonder endlessly,

For what is this meaning?

For why is this suffering?

Its all I can do,

to drive myself onward,

when all I want to do,

is return to a time,

when pain existed not.

Tho, that is now, too far beyond yesterday.

(and even harder to remember)

Its a tiring monotony,

living as such,

when nothing eases

this chronic state

and I've become to damned pained

to much longer care.

Its all I can do,

to merely survive,

yet another,

endless and agonizing cycle,

that is this-

my daily, so-called life.

View cathycavalcante's Full Portfolio