The light was on, but the darkness kept it from being bright.
Still, I could see everything that was not for me.
The walls had names, but mine was nowhere to be found.
When I look to floor, I see it next to the dust of the years of not being kept.
This is what the last couple of years have amount to.
There is noting for me to do.
The tears fall, but no water ever comes.
This is the end of the way things should be, but somehow it feels like the beginning.
I get up and go on, but the strength to stand hurts my knees.
I seek help, but then I look around and see that it is only me.
This is where I am, and this is where I will be.