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?