The sadness grows inside me; ever hungry. Ever devouring any hope of happiness.
The sadness grows. It is all consuming.
Only to be shadowed by the weariness that tires the core of my ancient bones and seeps forth from the center of my soul.
Sleep might be the answer, but it may also hold greater sorrow.
Sleep may be the answer, but waking might burn the mind.
The ultimate sleep might be the answer; but if it is - what is the question?
Sometimes life is hard.
Sometimes living is harder.
Sometimes knowing is harder still.
Always questioning: that is the hardest.
I've got a lot going on lately. This is draining me faster than I can recharge.... When that happens it always generates dark ponderances of what is....
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