Tired of being here,
of always asking why.
Of thinking of quitting,
of saying to all "goodbye!"

Tired of being sleepy,
of wanting to take a nap.
Of life being hecktick,
and being so out of whack.

Tired of pleasing everyone,
except just me.
Of not having time,
to just be sixteen.

Tired of counting days,
until my life changes.
Two weeks 'till seventeen,
and I'm turning pages.

Tired of writing my story,
but running out of ink.
Of pages being left,
one, two, three - Blank.

Tired of life,
of being always let down.
Of not being me,
and being, who, a clown?

Tired ... just a word,
with so many things it fits.
Tired, my dear,
doesn't begin to describe it ...