Tiresome.

It's a cry for help; a whisper in the wind, perhaps.

Unknown to the rest of the world, a silent killer.

It's like drowning in a puddle, or searing skin on a match,

Grabbing a deflated life preserver, or drenching a flame with a teaspoon.

It's heart wrenching and unbearable at times,

Fighting perpetually in a rigged contest.   

Enduring an endless battle.

It's debilitating.