I am tired, but I try
Doing the things I must
I get through the day
With all I have to give
All I want to do is cry
Still so little remains
I dig down so deep
But it is almost empty
I dredge the bottom
Trying to hide the pain
No one can clearly see
What still remains of me
No one is allowed
The glimpse inside
Of what I used to be
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 