Cyclical Exhaustion

So tired and exhausted,
my soul flat lined,
victim of my inner voice, self-accosted.

Sacrifices made, an extension of myself given,
yet status quo is honored,
some try not at all, others just give in.

Creation. Innovation. Adaptation.
It's all a slow cyclical suffocation.
Until May,
Left on the canvas, exploring signification.

or the mystification of the situation,
of the true question:
In the business of person-development,
did you give everything?

My soul is empty.
My inner voice calm with rage told me that.
How exhausted are you?