A shitty Artist with a shitty head, writing shitty poems

EVERY

With every breath my lungs grow heavier.
With every blink a waterfall spills from my eyes.
With every movement my body moves slower.
With every thought my mind drowns in darkness.
With every new day I grow more tired.
What's the point, everything seems to get worse.
Yet I'm still here.
Why?
What is keeping my tortured being here?
Is there still a sliver of hope buried deep inside?
So many questions I'm too tired to answer.
My motivation has diminished greatly.
Yet how am I still going?
It makes no sense?
Perhaps I should not question it.
May I let this thing carry me to the end.
Maybe then I will achieve great things.