Some days I feel weak and weary.
The days when I feel as fragile as glass.
The days when I have thousands of miles to drive but so little gas.
I just want a break, just a little time to rest.
I just want to feel at peace, I wish I could just rip out this pain I feel in my chest.
Some Days I feel exhausted.
The days that I'm tired of life and all of its pain.
The days that I wish and pray for the sun to come out, but nonetheless it continues to rain.
I just want it all to go away.
But I know that it won't, sadness my uninvited guest, always chooses to stay.
Perhaps someday none of these days would have mattered.
Maybe if I had kept fighting I would have been able to live more of the better days.
I've won many battles, but I'm weak and wounded, and won't be winning the war.
I take off my white shirt because its wet and soggy,
The flag is supposed to be white but I'm sure my blood stained shirt will do.
It doesn't matter because I'm sure life understands and is smiling.
I Knelt, layed my knife down, bowed my head, and uttered my final words.