Most Days Cannot Compare

I'm done trying to be okay.
Shed my skin.
Expose my bones.
Take my soul.
Stun and pierce my heart.

It should seem obvious:
I have nothing to live for.

Everyday is nothing more than a blur.
Nowadays, it's not even close to that.
Most days cannot compare
To the pain I must endure.

I'm done trying to be okay.
I sure hope you understand.
It would be best to slink back
Into my old ways.
To have them gladly ignite and engulf me.

With such days as these,
I couldn't dare to pretend.
I had no business here.
No life, no soul.

Most days surely cannot compare.

Reviews

[Misery]

Nothing to live for. You and I really have nothing to live for, except (maybe) one more poem.
One more passage of unadorned, naked truth launched into the wind for all the world to see, if the world is in a seeing mood. Nothing to live for except these frail words that spill from our weary souls.