Pity Party

Sometimes I feel like a sinking island.

An island of silence in the midst of the chaos
as the world spins madly
and the waters rise
and the winds blow
and the thunder drowns out the cries
of helplessness.

No work to be found
or told I am over qualified,
can't work for less just to have a job,
sets a bad example they say.
Feeling like I'm letting down those
whom I care for so,
tho they say not.

Sitting and spinning round in circles,
spiraling in a direction I don't want to go
even the words in my mind are being drowned
in panic and worry. Tears fall
where no one can see, my mask
is well in place when they return.

We'll muddle through, muddied waters
cloud issues, droughts of one
floods of another--
erosion takes its toll
and I am worn down to nothing
nothing at all.