by Rachelle de Bretagne

Created on: April 08, 2009

There is no hope, at least not now,
And would I listen anyhow,
As all things cease to be,
Controllable or in control,
And life itself is less than whole,
With such a broken me.

I am not clear on what I feel,
Or what is truth or what is real,
There is no answer to it,
For problems build within my mind,
And no solution do I find,
To help me to get through it.

The bills remain unopened now,

I couldn't pay them anyhow,
So what's the point of trying?
The fire's unlit, there is no wood,
No match to light it if I could,
Something inside is dying.

There is no pill for what I feel,
They tell me that it isn't real,
They're not inside my head.
In cosy housing, unafraid,
Observe my life but would they trade
For footsteps that I tred?

I've worn my medals in my day,
Though bravery has gone away,
And leaves my moments fleeting,
Cold to the very heart and mind,
My fingers numb, no peace I find,
I can't afford the heating.

In clothing which is second hand,
And legs too weak to walk or stand,
Who's there to comfort me?
When I can't pay the doctor's bills,
Or even then afford the pills,
For healthcare isn't free.

Yes, overwhelmed is understated,
Though it's real and health related,
What help do they give?
To one whose life has all been spent,
For help is short to pay the rent,
I can't afford to live.

But through the burden and the strife,
There is a hope that they call life,
A blueness in the sky,
A twinkling star, a moon that wanes,
A rainbow when there's sun and rains,
I guess that I'll get by.

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