Some days I get tired, because it's always something to fight, something to struggle against. So tired it seems like the tears are tired of running down my face. Tired of the tightness in my stomach, when I am anticipating dreadful happenings. Tired of fearing to hear my phone ring. Fearing if I answer it, I will hear grief speaking to me on the other end. And violently snatching the peace from my heart. And I find that pain has weaken me so much, my thoughts are steady and slow, through the night. And I can't catch peace. And death at times seems like a very peaceful option, to a painful life, and I just want to lie down. But my spirit won't let me. It tells me it's not the end of the fight until the end of the fight. And a new one begins. Peace don't sit still in no ones heart. Nor does joy pain and sorrow. They trade places. In reality I am not tired of living. I'm tired of dying to live.