In Dying We are Born (137/365)

The more I know about love
The farther my journey seems
I feel desperate, I feel angry, unloved and tired
God is making me rely on him
For my rent, my sustenance, my happiness
And it feels like I might die
I won’t go down without a fight
So misery haunts me
And joy mocks me
I’m tired of learning
It’s too painful
Ignorance must be bliss
I want so badly to be the person
Who writes my poems
Of faith, hope, and love
And not the pitiful failure
Who curses and sulks and grinds her teeth
When will she just die?