How do you expect a child to do so much?

They're tired, can't you see?
Tired from doing so much,
And that "much" being nothing worthwhile
Doesn't make it any less tiring.

They're tired,
Lift them up into your arms
Where it is safe and warm,
For the weight of their own body is too heavy to bear.

They're so tired,
So lay them in bed and tuck them under a blanket
Of a thousand promises to always be there for them, never let them hurt, to always love them.

They're tired,
Just read them a bedtime story about silly little talking animals
That sometimes have troubles,
But always work it out in the end.

They're tired,
Let them have their little interminable nap,

Because they're tired.
And they deserve to rest.

i feel like the weight of my world
is on my shoulders,
a self-inflicted
Atlas curse.

my actions
are coming back
to knock me down
and crush my resolve.

i'm so close.

so close to getting everything fixed.

and i push the boulder
up the hill as Sisyphus did.

but every time i near the zenith,
i make one small misstep,
and everything slips from my hands,
rolling me flat again.

mere assignments
feel like labours of Hercules,
impossible trials,
with the intent of divine punishment.

if i slay the Hydra,
will i pass english class?

How fast can you jump,
With tired legs?
Further than the wall,
Or are your legs too weak for freedom.

How far can you swim,
When your arms are sore?
Will you make it across the lake,
Or drown half way?

How much can you love,
With a broken heart?
Will you make them happy,
Or have them jumping to get away?

MON

A yearning swallowed softly,
In the wake of reality
Never dared to be dreamt -
It fades away, leaving whispers behind.

They follow me as I work, and
Gaze wistfully out of the misty window -
As I lay in my bed, tired
Dreaming softly of worlds (not my own).

Those whispers distract, daze,
Destroy - destroy my life, built so
Tirelessly with my sweat and despair.
How could I throw away all of this,
When I worked so hard to get it?

Those whispers, they answer -
You worked for it, yes,
but you never
Wanted it.
What is it that you want?

And my traitorous mind, it whispers
(no, screams) back -
Dew-dropped meadows, sunsets that
Burn like fallen gods;
Views that steal my breath, suffocate
Until no thoughts remain.

Awe that makes me breathless, paralyzed -
A beauty so vast it cannot be
Understood.
Dawns that rise with me, falling away
Like old skin, the sun raw
On my transformed self.

Oh, I know what I want.