there’s tiredness in every
of my sigh.
did you notice that?
look at my eyes, and it will tell you
everything that you want to know.
i will stare at you,
upper eyelids covering the half of
my irises.
the dark circles under my eyes
are way more visible
than happiness’ presence
in my smiles.
look at my bones.
did you notice that?
they want to dig their own grave
and lie down there
for some minutes,
or maybe an hour,
because maybe they can find
the rest that they need
in there.
it’s ’cause no matter what i do,
i can’t erase the rust
that consumes my rotting brain.
i have tried a lot of things
to get rid of it.
i have tried sharing,
i have tried sleeping,
i have tried writing,
but none of those
ever helped me
ease the exhaustion
even for a second.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
