The End of September

Monday, September 26

By Lisa Porter

It is the end of September and I am trying to remember

if I ever met anything at all,

It's hard to be present when I loathe this presence that I carry around like dead weight.

the what-ifs have started a war in my every raging head and the pills no longer let me sleep

the season is new but the story is old

and it is taken every ounce in me not to get bored. 

wake up, brush my teeth and head out to make my dues.

the rent is late, the power is off

but the universe expects us to chug along

we all need help, some more than others 

the end goal is the same, isn't it?

to love and be loved, 

to find peace with wherever our life has led us.

are you like me? 

are you torn between not wanting to care about anything because one day 

we will all be dead and gone 

and wanting to care about absolutely everything because you want this life to mean something?

it seems easier to go insane,

to succumb to the battle and just rest.

it is the end of September and I am trying to remember 

whether I ever met anything at all.


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