Diff

My hair, it turns grey.

My job gets harder and harder.

My To Do list, it doubles in length every day. I manage about two things on it a day, and other things drop off the bottom of the list, never to be done, too late to do.

There's no release, no release.

This crushing feeling of isolation.

It would be so much easier if it was killing me.

But its not, I just trudge on, getting bitter and bitter, angrier and angrier, turning into more of a monster.

I need you to hold me still.