My soul aches

My soul aches and makes the sound of an old rusty bridge. Weathered by the storms of life it aches but where is the medicine to cure. My soul aches at the pain of hatred, disdain, and deceitful acts like poison killing me slowly. Its seems when one is hated joy and  life drain out from your bones, peace, and hope like water pour until there are barely any drops left. My soul aches with a tired that sleep cannot remedy at all. Do you know that type of tired. The type where even in slumber some how the psyche is inflicted with faces, situations, and fables without reason leaving one restless. My soul aches to awake at any given hour of the night to energy not my own seeking to steal the little light left in me leaving me lifeless, languishing, barely breathing, and they say misery loves company. Well misery beg your pardon, I am not miserable. My soul aches because it has been running on empty for some years now. There are those in life who are takers, critics, and no matter what joyful presence you bring within minutes your smile will be wiped from your face. My soul aches so I write, write, write, and allow my soul to heal itself.