He goes by the writer; echoe0021
I try to cry, but the tears
won’t fall from my eyes.
I try to breathe, but my breath
is failing to find its life.
I try to find a way to
present this torrent of emotion
building inside. Fail, simple
failure is all that will rise.
I try to love, but all’s
empty embrace grasping the air.
I try to see, but my eyes
fail in attempt, seeing only bones bare.
Charred and dismayed, hollow
they break so faulty and frail,
flawed in each and every way. Fail
simple failure is all that prevails.
I try to live, but death’s stare
is so unforgiving; he rarely blinks.
I try to pay no mind, but thoughts
never ceasing, always racing.
I try to find that peace of mind
so romanticized, glorified by
philosophers throughout time. Fail,
simple failure is all I find.
I try; I succeed in failing to find peace of mind, my art, my love, my life in this time. Fail, simple failure found in the art of trying, Success, as I have lived throughout my attempts at life.