My face feels numb
My legs feel pain.
But none of that compares to my
poor exhausted brain.
Exhaustion has seeped to the very core of my bones.
I don't want to become one of those people who moans, but -
Sorting through my thoughts is like
Sifting through thick sludge
I cannot, not feel angry.
I try not to hold a grudge,
against myself - for not being stronger
I wish I had the energy to keeping going for longer.
YOU ARE READING
A poem per day
PoesíaA place for poems. One year. 365 poems. A challenge, a journey - a quest to be a better writer.
