They'd ask, "How are you?"
I'd say, "I'm okay."
"You sure?," they pull it through.
"I'm just tired," I say.

But what I don't tell is that,
I'm not just tired.
With every worn hat,
I just wanna be fired.

Sleep won't fix this.
I need some break.
Maybe a few minutes,
Those I would take.

I need to part ways, I think,
From life even.
I'm at the brink,
Looking for my own haven.