A Box of Tissues

Beat myself
with a whip.
My shoulder is not
strong enough
for this chip.
I talk to strangers
to try to understand
the things that I find
hard to command.
Why cant I be
the same as you?
Instead of one
of the unlucky few.
My glass is always
half empty,
it is never full.
Life is never exciting,
it is always dull.
One day at a time
and I might be fine.
But the past
is always here
to intertwine.
The future
shall arrive
with pending issues.
That will
of course require,
a box of brand new tissues.

blur box clean contemporary
Photo by Tookapic on Pexels.com

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