It doesn’t hurt less often,
It doesn’t hurt less.
I’ve not got it together,
I’m still an utter mess.
I just don’t have the stamina,
It just takes too much out.
There’s not a lot left in here now,
I’m a whisper, not a shout.
I’m all cried up…
My tears have all dried up…
My life’s shutters slide up…
It’s messed my inside up ,
I’m the smallest matryoshka:
I’m all hollow inside,
If another shell is taken
That’s me, I’m gone, I’ve died.