Exhaustion hangs on the tips of my fingers
I feel as if I cannot go on but must
What is this place?
This place which weighs down my body
This place that vomits heat and horror
This place of anvils admitting they are the coming rain
They have no need to comfort you for they pain
They need no introduction much like the insane
Shivering sick sedated injecting sorrow
How many more days until this feeling goes away?
The leaves turn brown as the sound from the dog pound begins to rise
Whelping squeals they beg for meals that will never come
I am tired
Oh so tired
Of this funny sad feeling