What does it mean to be too tired of hoping? Medicine next to me that I'm too weak to open. Ironic I have the cure, yet I stay frozen. So I hold my breath; I curl into a ball. I let my body shake uncontrollably, till it's resolved. The pain is no longer a storm. But the weather, everyday. Even if I choose to be happy It seems pain and sadness will find a way. So I have but one ask, if the day comes. The day I choose silence over the endless ache. A day I place my pain first. Not in death, but in regret. Find me. Find me in the pink clouds. The deep orange that bleeds through the sky. The breathless sunset or sunrise. Perhaps on a midsummer night. Find me where the light softens. Find me in the pink. What once was my least favorite color, Was the last visible scene to give me peace. I didn't run out of hope. She just couldn't help me. It doesn't mean she failed. It just meant she had been trying.