I am at the end of my road, the one I quietly walk alone.  The years have been cruel to me, I can’t deny; I still wonder why.  I am standing in front of this graceful destruction, my life, looking to see if there is still any way for construction.  The pain is like the wind.  It gracefully sweeps through your being, swaying every which way.  Transparent is the pain some may think.  Like a cool breeze at times makes you cringe with chills, the pain is the same when it aims to kill.  All of these days walking this road alone have made my heart so fragile and torn.  It feels as if there’s a storm occurring within the depths of my soul and with every strike my insides become more burnt like coal.  I am unbelievably tired of fighting this never ending battle and losing myself in the midst of the disaster.  I have tried and tried and never gave up, but it feels as if I’m out of luck.  Nobody could truly understand me or this disease.  Nothing I could ever write would help you understand my inscrutable life.  I feel rage, is that wrong?  At the end of the day everything else inside of me is gone.  It won’t be long till this walk comes to a halt, but that doesn’t mean everything is forgot.  I want this to be over with, I want happiness.  I have wishful thinking and I have hope.  I know it won’t be like this for long, but for now the storm will continue to rage and I will die a little more inside each and every day just hoping, wishing, and praying that happiness is on its way.