This Life

I cry for every soul that is forlorn in this world that is fading. My soul is like glass shards barely put together. It cracks with every painful memory and thought. It cracks at the thoughts about sorrowful beings. I think about them, and about the life they are having. The life we are having. What life is that !? Nomatter how hard I try to find a solution, there seems to be none. I break all over when at the end, I end up believing this is the life we are meant to have.

So I can't put the pieces together. I can't glue the shards.

They fall like tears.