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Man Nov 2020
clarity is costly
and people seem to pay
tending to their mind
they lose it!
piper m Jun 2020
I have one friend.
He is the only one who listens when I speak.
Even he grows tired sometimes.
Please don’t ask me to be brave
Let me lay my bones to rest
Just let me close my eyes.
Leave my thoughts
to reach the open skies.

Don’t tell me to stand my ground
My dear, I fear that I might fall,
I just might break again;
Don’t mind the tears
if I fail to keep them in.

The shadows come in waves
they loom above my head all day
they join me in my bed;
and when it's time
for sleep, I drown instead.

But if you’re tired of this as well
If you’ve run out of soothing words
and patience left to give,
I’ve left the door ajar—
Please know that you may leave.

Just let me take a breath;
The smile you see upon my face
is asphyxia within.

I apologize;
You must have hoped for me to win.
Colm Jan 2020
With that
A weariness crept up close upon me
Without a word or caustic look
More silent than a shadow stalks
More lonely than an abandoned Rook
It jumped and I fell fast asleep
Surely as weariness, consciousness, and companionship exist
I feel, as if only one of these can be
Whence awake
A creeping weariness alive
Take a seat when you're tired,
Wipe thy face till your tears dry.
I just hate seeing you cry.
Listen to me as I sing a lullaby,
And to your concerns say goodbye.
Your weariness takes a toll on me
So do your best and to your sorrows, breakfree
Sleep now, my love, for our tomorrow
Be jovial and leave your sorrow.
Don't let my heartaches get into you
'Cause I'll be fine on a Sunday moon
And who knows, we might see a baboon.
But, in case we see a doe,
Please, don't say **.
Just a note.
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
i’ve grown weary
of this story
of this frame
oh so weary
of this cosmos
in which I got this name

and I can’t remember why I came

I’m fearful for the leaving
can’t seem to quit the game
oh how I love this loathsome body
I carry with me night and day

and when I look into the mirror
I see a stranger face

sweet solace sought in speaking
my wearisome refrain
no rest foreseen in sleeping
if I must wake again
in lukewarm purgatory
on waves that toss and strain
in sitcoms just repeating
weary lines and jokes again

and again
Nigdaw Jul 2019
I am tired;
As a man on a journey
Whose only home is carried on his back,
As a poet who has nothing
But an empty mind and a page that is blank,
As a child born into poverty
With no future and no going back.

It grips me, weighing me
Like a puppy in a sack,
The dark river beckons
Ready to devour,
The cold grip of death
From a breath,
I cannot quite catch.

I am tired
That no rest can cure,
No sleep can quench
No meal can nourish,
No vista uplift,
Tired of existence
To the core of my being.
Chronic fatigue syndrome: a medical condition of unknown cause, with fever, aching, and prolonged tiredness and depression, typically occurring after a viral infection.
A moment passed, as it always seems to
With guilt washing over me like the shore,
Passed without me doing what I need to,
Bound in chains of shame I failed once more.

For what was I bequeathed this gift of time
If not to use passing moments for praise?
Weary, I let passivity be my crime.
These wasted moments lead to wasted days.

The morning light is heavy with regret,
No slumber enough for this restless soul.
I laid down with my dreams serene, and yet,
Overnight my guilt turned soul black as coal.

Saying “I love you” ere I close my eyes,
Means more to me than I could realize.
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