rhapsodic pastoralism
as beguilingly bucolic as tempera gardens,
where nature’s wild beauty
is domesticated and made
into a safe space for dream and play,
reverie and revelry.

with the bright dawn
chatter of birdsong
it seems to reach your ear across distance,
like a girl singing happily to herself
while walking down the road
on the other side of your garden wall.

Not a sign of weakness
But a symbol Of bravery
It says you've accepted the truth
And ready to fight illusions' slavery

When the realization hits
No, everything's not fine
I do not embrace the lie
There's pain in truth, but it's all mine

Won't bring you pain
No, they do not hurt
Tears are your friend
Sacrificing, for your comfort

Cry, my dear friend, cry
let those tears flow
And listen what they say
Once you stop, make sure
To let all of the pain, go away!!

How do you tell people?
    How do you tell them that you’re exhausted  
          even though you slept for 12 hours?
    How do you tell them that you need a break  
     from talking and smiling and simply being?