and so I shed another tear, one I've helped to create

Deep sadness won't allow me slumber. They say there's no rest for the wicked, perhaps that's what I am. But my greatest sin is that, I don't know.

I want to please, but instead I agitate.
I want to help but I hurt.
Like Midas but with the touch of angst.

How can it feel this way if it was devoid of truth?
How can you wish away something that never was?

And from now on, I will the wrong measurements for suits.
Arms too long, pants too short, nothing will fit, never look right.
And that's how I want it, irregular, like you, like me, like all of us.

Time may heal wounds but there's no Rx for a soul.

Alas, I'm an eternal dreamer, I admit.

But I can't dream anymore. I don't sleep.