My arms are tired,
of these crutches,
dragging alongside me, leaving dirt trails,
though my body shivers at the thought of being completely exposed to the ground it touches,
and yet itches for freedom winds and the gales
of adventure, my heart also conspired,
with my arms so tired.
My arms are tired,
and need to swing,
free of fate and destiny,
free of these insecurities to which I cling,
free to get more scraps on my knees and the whole world to see,
my fears have all retired,
with my arms so tired.
My arms are tired,
now I stand as alone,
and it's not so difficult,
as I had thought, as my body had grown,
so tired with the tumult,
in my heart in charge and my mind fired,
and with my arms so tired.
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A Gaze Through My Reality-scope
PoetryA collection of 100 of my poetry works which are available on other sites, with a few exclusives.
