Now its my turn

Its my turn to wear that face that cannot hide the pain.  These tears streaming down in constant succession the witness to the moments creeping by.  Its my turn to feel the hurt and accept it as my own, typing through this thing called depression as if the typing could some how cure the problem.  It cant.  And I am stuck by my own admission in this overwhelming hurt.

And its a hurt that I assume and in my assumption do my worst.  The doctor today, oh that blessed doctor with his true concern for my well being.  It mattered to him that I am in pain.  It mattered to him that I believed I was strong enough to hold by myself what I am not strong enough to hold. No not nearly strong enough.

This is my moment.  This is the moment I admit  to. Alone with these sobs.  Alone with these tears.  I cant break anymore, it will be the death of me.

I will hide from myself again so that i can move. I will hide from my pain so I can breath.  I will hide from it all so that i can think.  Straight.

thank you for witnessing.