Room Of My Mother

I am so tired.... So tired of faking it to make it and thus bending over and taking it, just on the strength that none of them seem to be able to handle it on their own.  I am tired of pretending to be strong when the one who had my back and my swagger is gone and I am left alone in a room full of people telling me I'm not.  But I can feel my strength leaving, I can taste my soul as it begins to rot and I stop... Stop caring and tearing and I know soon I will stop feeling.  But right now I just go through the motions, just to fulfill the notions of most... Be strong, do this and do that....take care of this and that...go to bat and don't forget that and this.... All while I am drowning in the abyss of my own fears and weakness... be strong for everybody but who is strong for me.... do for everybody but who is doing for me.... watch everybody's back and stand exposed...

fuck it, I get it...why the hell would I ever feel alone... fuck it I get it, I no longer have a home.... a house to reside but no place of rest... fuck it, I'm screwed it's all for the best, don't rush death that's a test of God's patience and time, but goddamn it I can't wait to rest in the room of that mother of mine...

I miss that mother of mine...


Wiser
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