My eyelids are heavy,
My wit is no sharper than
A blunt knife,
Patience fraying,
Vitality wearing thin,
Health diminishing,
Soul leaking from this frail body -
It wishes to be somewhere,
Anywhere, else;
Just someplace other than here,
And I cannot fault it
For being that way.
If I had the energy, I, too,
Would already be miles away.
There is nothing to be gained
From this strife,
Yet I am too exhausted to run away.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
