A quiet mask, a careful grace,
No tremor shows upon my face.
The world perceives a steady climb,
Unknowing of the brutal time
I\'ve spent beneath a silent dread,
A hidden burden in my head.
I struggle on, but none can see,
The breaking waves inside of me.
This silent ache, a crushing weight,
Has grown too vast, has sealed my fate.
The pain has climbed beyond control,
Invaded every fibre, whole.
Each breath a fight, each thought a sting,
No respite left, no song to sing.
The overwhelm, a rising tide,
Where can a weary spirit hide?
I can no longer carry on,
The strength I had is spent and gone.
My will is frayed, my spirit worn,
A tattered flag, forlorn, forlorn.
To persist in this, I find I can\'t,
No further plea, no fervent chant.
The well is dry, the flame grown low,
There\'s nothing left, nowhere to go.
It is what it is, the fight is done,
Beneath this pale and setting sun.
It is what it is, I can\'t pretend,
This weariness must find an end.
Just let me go, release my hold,
A story finished, brave and old.
Just let me go, and find my peace,
From endless pain, a sweet release.