She'll tell you that she needs me, but she is content with going without my words. I try to speak, but in the end, nothing comes out. Normally, my words are powerful, whether spoken or written. They are fierce in their tone when they need to be. That same mouth can also sprinkle the world with happiness, compliments, and even jubilation. Regardless of tone, these words will always ring true, based solely on my perception. But she has no interest in listening.
She'll tell you that she needs me, but her actions suggest otherwise. I take three steps towards her, only to see her take three steps to escape me. My mind is constantly in motion, thinking about tomorrow, what happened yesterday, and even what just occurred moments ago. I'm not chiseled like sculpture, nor built tall and strong like rock, but with even with my deficiencies, I stand firm and confident. My every being is strong, as I look to channel away weakness and ineptitude.
She'll tell you that she needs me, but her desperation is merely a facade. Any fear and pain that exists within me, she planted there with her own reluctance and hesitation. I now second-guess my next move, afraid to take another step forward. My mind is gradually consumed by the thought of how she will continue to elude me and my efforts I set forth. Uncertainty has crept in and slowly, but surely, it has taken control. Fighting and resistance are futile, because regardless of what I do, she will continue to run. Eventually, I will fatigue and my body will grow weary. My mind is already too exhausted to go on and soon, I will just shut down. I'm not completely shredded, but the pieces are starting to fall. The tarnish is now showing. The fire will melt what's left of me soon. To the pain and fatigue I will eventually succumb, for carrying on no longer bears any purpose.
She'll tell you that she needs me, but she's the one who has kept me away. Cessation shall be my only freedom. I've given up. I willingly consent, to where fear can crush me within its grip. Squeeze the life out of me slowly, for this air I'm too tired to breathe. I've tried to approach her, but I can never come within many meaningful distance. I might as well be chained and shackled to the earth, because I'm definitely not covering any ground. Whether on my feet or crawling along the surface, I just can't seem to reach her.
She'll tell you that she needs me, but she is perfectly comfortable without my presence. It sounds good to say that she'll always stay with me, but in my mind and heart, she has since packed up and left. She'll only tolerate the light that I bring and when I'm at my brightest, while abandoning me when I'm stuck in the darkness. I've been alone in the dark before, almost to where I'll say that I find it comforting.
She'll tell you that she needs me, but she no longer wishes to listen. I was once drawn to her voice, and even to her words in print. Now my words are grating, something she'll look to avoid. I am no longer a song she wants to hear, a poem she refuses to read, a beverage she longer wishes to sip. My body and mind have accepted this new dark and somber reality, because fighting has yielded nothing. She can't tolerate my presence, my touch would be a deadly as gangrene. I once imagined, in happier times, how her touch might have truly felt. My imagination has gone dim, almost blank as if I were blind. These chains hold me captive, only because I no longer have the will to fight. Fear can have me. The darkness can have me.
She'll tell you that she needs me, but then again, why is she already gone? Back into the abyss I go, because I see nor feel any reason to go on.
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