The pain is with me.
She is my unconstant companion. She goes. She comes. To flirt. Crushing me in her embrace. The kind of embrace that leaves one waiting for surcease. Any way out.
The lake calls.
Loudly. Softly. He whispers, “Come. Come to me. I can promise you relief from all that pain. Come to me. Come now.”
Yet strangely I resist. I know not why.
Why do I go on? There must be a reason. Or, is there?
Give me one reason to go on.