Misery

Misery is sitting down alone at night

and trying to remember how to cry.

It's when a friend says 'it's them or me'

It's not when having a very bad day

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It's when a good day sours.

And I'm tired of it. So sick and tired.

So sick of being sick and tired

Answer elude me; thoughts quagmired,

Unable to meet the tasks required

A shock of white within my hair

Constant reminder of when I cared

Only for my efforts be lambasted

These stomach ulcers are each handcrafted.

Through the weight of failure and the weight of years

I found at last my stolen tears.