I'm in a haze, Every step I feel I'll fall,
But I still walk through these halls.
Head hung down resisting this weakness.
Giving in to being breathless.
I'm drowning in this...
Whatever this is.
I speak no more.
I feel empty like I have no core.
I'm afraid to fall.
But I wish I could just give in and faint.
I try to call you.
My helping hand.
I need you to lead me through the fog.
But I guess I have the wrong number.
To hear the voice over the phone.
Automated telling me this number is wrong.
I feel weaker.
like if my eyes closed they wouldn't open.
Please call me.
I'll follow your voice.
I feel lost without you.
Should I faint or stand tall.
Help me, its your choice.
Will you let me fall?
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Sometimes, we just don't know whether to stand up or sit down! We walk in a daze, as if our life force has been sucked out of us. I see it constantly and I wonder why. I like this poem, for you refer to the Automated system we live today. Everything is automated, no longer a pleasant voice at the other end of the receiver, though a human might pick up the phone. I like the pleading done in this write, not too obsessive, but recognizing that there is a need and hoping that this need is met. Good job, Sage!