This is where I find myself,

Every passing day.

Anxious.

Nervous.

But behind all that,

Afraid.

Every passing day.

I fear that this is all that my life is.

Waiting for it to be over.

Waiting for the time to pass so I can go home.

Waiting for the day to end so I can go back to the sweet comfort of sleep.

Interruptions and irritations.

I’m grumpy, angry, afraid.

I’m tired.

Worn out.

Exhausted.

Every passing day.

I don’t know how long I can go on doing this.

My back hurts.

My side hurts.

My soul hurts.

I can feel my life slipping away with each minute wasted.

I want to break free.

To reclaim my time and my place in this world.

I was made for so much more, but now I have to find out how to make that happen.

And so I wait.

Every passing day.

And so I die a little, every passing day.

And so I pray every passing day.

Written by Michael Paine

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Every Passing Day