It's hard to get rid of,
This old crusty skin.
Am I to rid myself of this tiredness?
Or by it cave in?
Lost and dreary forever on this empty shore,
Begging for more when all recedes me.
This the never ending struggle of the mind,
Bearing and dragging me down all the time.
And so it is that it bears down more,
When there's no room to breath.
And nary a door.