Barely Alive

I have never felt less alive,

And the tiny living part of me

Is in pain,

Crying without taking notice,

Trying to hold it together,

Trying to feel the life there is.

But what's there to sense?

What's there to take in?

And how can I

Pretend to be alive,

When I'm cold and hard inside,

Waiting for it to end?

Why should I send jokes and cheerful texts,

With tears at both corners of my eyes,

And damp cheeks?

I'm too sad to convey it,

I'm always crying,

And I'm always waking up the next day

To live, talk, and tell jokes,

While dead,

But not really.