The end is the same. Everyday.
Sleepless, close to tears and yet exhausted.
Comfort comes from art. On every low.
Confused, inadequate and yet still striving.
But true comfort is achievement. Achieving.
Creating, planning and helping.
Immobilized by screens and more. Myself.
Self pitting, sloth and still, self pride.
I should be using the low as a reason to try.
Not to give up, to forget truth, to stop.
I want to stop wasting my days.
Bored, useless and worthless.
To survive myself and the world I need to.
To take the day, take the opportunity and hold of my life.
