The unsent

I am tired.

How many ways can a man die? How many of his parts can be killed until it is called the whole? How many lies can one soul stomach until it screams out it's despair and suffocation?

Maybe it's better this way. No more of my broken promises. No more waiting for a change. No more hopes to be better. The silence in its own time will be a good enough goodbye.

They will understand as I do, that life goes on.

....

"All change is not growth; as all movement is not forward." -Ellen Glasgow