Words.

Tired

I am tired.

Physically.

Mentally.

Emotionally.

Lying motionless on the mattress listening to the tempting sounds of rain and war.

Constantly wondering what's more to life than chores and work and work and chores and living off of almost nothing while grieving over nothings.

I am tired of hearing the screams back and forth.

The yelling coming from the south, mocking the north.

I am tired of the social norms.

Keeping us separate on our own terms.

For once I want to walk out into the world and feel free.

Not always wondering if maybe one day the sweet air giving me life is going to cost a fee.

I am tired of seeing murders walk.

People talk.

We draw up war schemes using sidewalk chalk.

Because on the inside we are childish.

On the outside we are power hungry Mosquitos waiting to suck the blood of the innocent.

We don't need consent.

Because we will never be decent enough to speak from our mouths the words of the caring.

The words of the daring.

We think this world isn't worth sharing.

I am tired of seeing explosions going off in the distance.

Wondering what child was on the receiving end of that act of violence.

But do we care?

Of course not.

Because if you are as tired as me.

You wouldn't be able to see the danger and the threat we impose upon ourselves.

We are tired.

And tired is dangerous.