I'm tired to my bones
Every day just passing by
The repetitive words, "I'm fine"
Being a well spoken lie.
Heavy eyes and leaden feet
Walking straight a chore
How much time until
I can't take it anymore?
Walking a tightrope
Gusts of wind rush at me
The world tilting ppon its axis
Can't see ahead, sight gone blurry.
Monotonous rhythm of the day
Seems to drive me mad
But what can I do against it
When i already have it bad?
Just a little hush and quiet
From the running of everyday
Just a bit of rest and sleep
So I at least stop to sway.
But no reprieve
I must keep up
No place for slacking
Can't fuck this up.
It just gets worse
It's too stifling
But I can't do anything
So I just lay sniffling
Tears run down
But they won't help any
Gotta just get up
Things to do many
Not at all fine
Just barely alive
But gotta keep moving
Trying to survive.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Ink
PoetryPoetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. - Thomas Gray. A collection of all the poems that I've written.
