There's an ever present ache in my heart;
Primarily isolated, but it spreads out from time-to-time,
Corrupting the optimistic liberties that give me joy,
Sometimes an anchor to reality, a bitterness other times.

All good things are temporary as the ache persists,
But I suppose that is true even without the hollowed cast.
The same goes for bad as all things are temporary,
But all this ache desires is for something nice to last.

When things do last, the ache fears their loss,
And when things don't last, the ache wishes they come back.
The ache burns the face and takes hold of the throat,
Suspending the mind in limbo, afraid everything's a hack.

Since this ache is here to stay, I wish to be myself with it,
But the world is not wired to accommodate this pain.
For this limbo comes with an impossible wish;
A wish to never have existed, and never be here again.

To hold onto the good is not easy sometimes,
For the ache overwhelms and numbs all else,
As if it is the only true feeling that persists,
The only condition in which this heart swells.

I have always been grateful for the goodness I've received,
And for how kind life has always been to me.
But I cannot help wish this melancholy away,
Or wish for the ache's wants to come to be.

Even if I can't always get what I want,
Even if I get what I actually need,
Even if I know my wants are rooted in fantasy,
I cannot help but wish the universe to heed.

Sometimes your best is not good enough,
And the world crashes and you confuse yourself;
And the world confuses you and you want it all to stop,
And you forget all the good that awaits your self.

The ache ignores rationality as if it is meaningless,
As if all that matters are the fantasy it indulges, free;
At least this limbo is better than it all falling apart,
At least it is in the delusion of listening to rationality.

And the ache holds on to each glimmer of hope that arrives,
And the mind scolds the ache for all the self-turmoil,
But this is all a cycle that goes on and on and on,
And on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

I wonder if this cycle will ever come to a stop.
I wonder if I will simply learn to live with this grime.
I wonder if something good will ever come out of this.
I hope this ache is dulled with the power of time.

I most certainly hope this ache never grows.

But I suppose this ache is one of the factors,
That makes me who I am.
It's dual is the care, and the joy that care brings,
Is limitless and pure and ecstatic to feel.

The highest of highs come with the lowest of lows,
And in the lows I always wish for the wrong things,
But in the highs I am always grateful,
For being given so many right things.