Caressing the dead

Exhaustion......I say.
The illusion of certainty.....I pretend.
Passing out while we're awake.
In a world which does not seem to care,
we cry.

And at the end of every road,
when every moment ends,
before you start to collapse in your little world of shame and pain,
just stop and think, where are you going.....what are you on?

And right before things become notionless,
and right before your world begins to die,
think about that day, when your mother died,
and lie down and ask yourself....
where am i going, what am i on?

Suddenly everything will make sense,
or maybe it will not,
but at least you won't feel,
that hole in your stomach, that emptyness in your life.

Meanwhile, as you continue reading this nicely crafted poem,
take a breath, and scream out,
because at the end of every second,
you'll be there alone, asking yourself what have you done.