It's the Question

Bent twisted broken confused
How to wind up like this: I muse
Dream a life away holed up inside
Ironic that I forget the power to pray
Is it enough to throw a life away?
Enough to stake a claim of enduring love?
Is walking away the failure of a decision?
Or the failure of an option?
Sick of pain, sick of waiting, sick of no assurance
I'm tired of fighting alone.
But yet, still there is love.