Of All That Could Have Been

With each day that passes,
I wear this heavy coat of pain.
Overweight, with all my sorrows,
Of all that should have been.
 
A pain that never ceases,
Nor lets up its grasp upon,
The weighing down of these two fragile shoulders,
That are just not strong enough to carry on.
 
It lurks itself in the shadows,
Solemnly waits for my arrival,
As if to gently guide my hand,
To show me it's never too far away.
 
And within itself, it robs,
Every ounce of energy once created,
That I seemingly have left inside of me,
Upon this empty shell.
 
All I can do is gasp,
Hold on tight within its clutches,
And pray for its unrelenting release soon.
 
For if I continue on,
With all of this sorrow and sadness,
That my heavy heart consumes within itself,
I'm afraid I shall perish,
And be crumpled upon,
Underneath the weight of its feet.
 
And all that will be left beside in its wake,
Are the burning ashes of my yesterdays,
Scattered upon futureless promises,
Of all that could have been.