Weary of my days,
Weary of my unspoken ways,
The tricks and games
the mind will play.
Feeling weary of the rains,
The trials and tribulations of being a slave,
Weary of the looks when I speak,
Weary of the battles,
Weary of the crooks,
Weary of the screams,
Weary of those being so mean.
Fault or blame
it doesn't matter,
Weary of the meaningless chatter,
Small talk on a foggy day.
Weary of this life sometimes
in every way.
The darkness will come soon enough,
Weary of these darkest thoughts.
Lay me down
in a cozy comforter,
Morphine to make me numb,
the weariness
just lasts a moment,
Savor it
then it's gone
and
done.
Poetry is fiction and truth, a glimpse amidst the human condition.