Autopsy

This isn't it,
This isn't the life I wanted, for me, for us.
The pain, the loneliness of constant pain.
The aching in my chest for a life not lived
Merely survived.
Waking each morning it starts before I can open my eyes,
Gnawing at my self worth, my fight being drained from me.
Sometimes it's all I can do to keep breathing.
In, out.