Wilted

Her

I carry this burden.
It sits on my shoulders.
Every day I am crushed,
I cannot hold myself up,
Anymore.
How can I stay,
When I cannot even get up,
Without my burdens,
Pushing me to the ground.
They scream at me,
I tell them,
I cannot talk to them today.
But they do not listen.
And so I go on,
Every day,
And it never changes,
Never easier,
Like they say.
The blown out candles in which,
I walk through,
Do not part for me.
They keep me in,
Hostage.
It's ok,
It's my home now.
I understand.
You want to die.
So do I.
And so my shoulders get heavier.
I drag,
And stumble,
Through the blown out,
Candles,
Every second.
And that one day,
Where a single candle,
In my home of burned wax,
Lit up.
I saw his face,
Before I knew nothing.
And my light was gone,
With a single breath,
From my thoughts.
And I have been left,
With my home,
Of blown out candles,
That suddenly seemed,
Scary,
Dark,
and lonely.
Very,
.....lonely.
And I wished for once,
That I could get out.