Letter to A Battery

Dear Battery,

I wish I were not so hollow, that like you I had in me, something to give. I wish I weren’t this dark unending void, that like you I were of some use. You bring people up from their lows. You literally charge up and bring life to dying things. Me? I am without an ounce of life in me, all elixir drained out. I desperately, fumble and search around for something to fill this vast emptiness. all that comes to me falls through accentuating the depth, the darkness, the void. I am it. I am the empty.

If I could charge myself up, like inanimate objects can, I would do so much better. I wouldn’t then be so tired even after hours of sleep. I wouldn’t then feel weary in my bones even after sitting around all day. It wouldn’t then be a monumental task to just breathe in, to just move, to just be alive. If I had 33 triple A batteries instead of those vertebrae, maybe then I would be alive.


A tired fellow burnout.

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