Weary

I can see, in the mirror,
How every drop of youth is gone.
The dull glaze now which covers
The eyes I once loved.
I can feel it creeping in
The slow knowledge which comes
With realizing your heart
Is burdened with doubt.
A constant battle is fought
When your faith is misguided

Or maybe it’s not.
Each day a new struggle
To wake up and try
Knowing too well
Your eyes, they do wander
Another dismissal of my appeal.

It seems it is true
That I just might give
Until there is nothing left
And you’ll wonder
Why one day

I stopped.

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