In fleeting moments, all is good.
But it never stays,
It always decays.
I fear I may never be understood.
Through the thick smoke, I see hope.
But to reach it, means effort,
Something in short supply.
Use too much, fail too often, makes you wanna die.
The inability to express haunts me.
Regrets in the past taunt me.
“What if, What if” clouds my mind
As I try and fail to leave it behind.
I might get through this,
Everything is fine right now.
But what about tomorrow?
Maybe it’s easier to cut my losses and take a bow.