You feel as chipped as old, cheap nail polish,
Only you're not so easily fixed.
You sigh as though your soul is tired,
All optimism nixed —

You walk through every day on eggshells,
Trying to avoid tripwires.
At night the tension seeps into sadness,
As you wallow helplessly in the mire —

You walk around with your guard up,
But your head always down...
Wondering if there is something more for you
Than a sad, perpetual frown —

But everything is so hungry,
Always wanting more...
The treadmill of life is unrelenting
And forever unsure.