How do I describe it?
The sadness in my soul.
I don’t know it all myself.
My wife once said despair.
I think that fits. Despair.
Despair below everything,
beneath every laugh,
under every smile,
behind every achievement.
It haunts me constantly,
the specter of despair.
Despair because life hurts.
Despair because life ends.
Despair beneath despair.
Is it who I am?
At my very core?
Or is it something else?
I wish I knew.
Oh to live without despair,
it would be most liberating.
Will I ever know it?
Life without that darkness?
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
Yet I must carry on.
So I march through it,
in order to do what I must.
A tired trudge, but still,
it helps to keep my chin up.
Having something to do,
is better than wallowing.
I will fight despair,
for as long as I can.
I am very tired of the fight,
but I have tenacity.
I will not give in.
Despair will not beat me.
Despair cannot be me.
Poetry
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