Moving On

This is the last verse I will ever write.

The last excluding my own last rite,

and I do not feel tearful, weary at most,

of the effort required to just simply post,

but an effort is crucial, ideas must be clear;

if I spout out garbage, then no-one will hear

or understand why I must do this, or why I must go

to comprehend the life that surrounds this lame show

of life, and lies, and love, and lust,

and the small things we do because we know we must.

This lifetime is short, that much is known,

so I will not waste time waiting to be shown

that I control what I do, not money, nor greed,

and no dependency on technology will make me agree,

that I can never be loved, I can never be happy,

I can never be alright.

Friends, I am no longer as young as I was a matter of two years ago (I certainly don't feel it), and due to my rapidly declining mental health, I am barely capable of composing a poem in the same timeframe as I used to, so this will be my last formal piece as a YWSer. Thank you for all your feedback on my works over the last two years, and for all the great folks who I've met in my time here. <3 If you wish to contact me for any reason, please let me know on the PM system. I will occasionally pop into the chat to catch up folks I've missed greatly but y'all should be used to my periodic absences by now... :P