Seeing birds fly, they needn't a reason to live
They don't grieve about what they don't give
What do I call this weight on my back,
and if I were to stop, who would pick up the slack?
I need to work or the worms creep in
I cannot rest or rot seeps in
Turning in bed trying to ignore the pain
Controlling everything as sickness takes the reigns
Sometimes I wish I could let go
I wish things would fall into place on their own