Too tired to care
Nodding,  I stare
Blankly
Trying remember
Why,
Why I continue
Why I believe
Why I love
An illusion of
Feeling
Caring, and not
A thought is all
That motivates
What I should be
How I should waste
A life, as if I
Was part of it
Yet only pretending
Going though the
Motions
I struggle with the
Truth, as I sit here
Trying to live the
Life I was taught
Be the husband
Be the father
As I contemplate
My role

Truth, is I don’t
Know
Who I really am
Though. I am supposed
To feel love
Sometimes, I feel
Nothing

Sad, caught up in
A real life drama
Of societal placement
A belief
Formed my understanding
As I move from day to day

An anachronism of
Another century
Left to live out
My role
Even if I don’t really
Understand my implication
That I feel nothingness
My soul struggles
To withstand the
Onslaught of
A day … A day
That continues.

And with it confusion
Boredom
And the nothingness
That is
That day..and again..
And
Again….and
Again……

An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe