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It’s hard.

The emptiness, the thoughts, it’s hard.

Trying to comprehend the understanding, the thoughtfulness of usted,

you understood.

Why should I?

It’s so hard.

Why would I want to let go of the pain that drives me so.

If I feel I’m alive, if it hurts, tomorrow will soon come or so they say,

but it’s hard.

I agree to disagree.

My understanding lies in ignorance.

I’m vexed and torn within.

Twisted with redundant thoughts, raging with disgust,

why is it so fucking hard?

Living to love, loving to hate living, life, lies and love.

Has it ever been easy, or has easy just been blinded by newness?

Damn, please forward counsel to my innermost chamber, it’s hard.

Hard to overlook the grey dawn, feeling the eerie chill of sunsets black

and seeing the moon brighten up you warmest nightmare.

I’m sweating and cold.

Weakened and emotionless I’m old and it’s hard.

I want and need what needs to want me.

Knowing neither really truly sees but ceases to feel.

Soften the well of waters within that I may know existence without

harshness and indigestible minerals of reality.

To know that hardness is in part and not the whole,

I pray take courage my soul.

Take courage my soul and let me carry on.

Lead me to the place where I can be found.

To a place of rock and mountain that I may hide within.

Kiss me softly and allow the transient energy of bliss to flow through me,

conduct around me.

Let this be written, not hidden, but viewed in plain sight, so if but

for one moment in time, this time, it’s really not so hard.

© N.N.Williams 2011

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