Everyday I get a little tired more and more.
Why do I keep waking up?
Why don't I stay asleep?
Spirits lost, purpose non-existent and still keep waking up
Not winning this battle anymore
I'm tired of being strong.
I just want to go away.
Feels like life is just slipping away... day by day.
This feeling of dread just won't go away.
And it's tiresome and I won't stay asleep.
I don't want to be here for anyone, not even myself anymore.
I just want to go away
Disappointed because I am always waking up.
Why don't this thing call life just go away?
Everyday I have dark thoughts,
Thoughts that see me so far away.
I try to keep them at bay... but sometimes I get close to thinking how wonderful it would be making myself go away.
Can I sell my soul to the Devil since God's turned a blind eye to me?
Sometimes I wish I did believe in a God or a Devil. I'd sell my soul so fast.
Tired seeking solace from the past. There I was seeming so glad.
Tired of feeling I'm not going to last. Now I am going mad.
This life of mine has not been a blast... Here I am still so sad.
Can I stop waking up please? I just want to stay asleep. Devil can you make a deal with me?
God can you stop torturing this flea?
Universe can you stop waking me up?
Life I'll do anything, just keep me away. I don't want to be here anymore.
Who's ever running this thing, get me off because I done. Please stop waking me up. Don't wake me up. Can you not wake me up?
Offline)
Comments2
There's an oxymoron in there.
world-weary, heavy eyelids
mere slits to see from
blinkers worn to tatters, so now
a constant bombardment
strife for breakfast, woe lunch
make it home
to ink our laments, drunk dinners
sleepless, we squirm
yet we're bone-weary, listless
alarm arrives
as our reality's nightmare, begins
again...
somehow, we get through
someway, we make it back home
something
feels different, for a change
it's been a while
since we couldn't hear our knees
creek, and so
we wait, for that other shoe to visit
steal this relief from us
like all the time's before
yet
another day, comes n goes
and we're still feeling, lighter
than the years we've spent
wading through, the mire
of breath,
sustenance,
sleep
and toilet, shackling routines..
a few weeks, merge
into tomorrow's of a busy, everyday
eventually years later, we stop
somewhere
remember, that beautiful Poem
we penned
all those lifetime's ago, a Time
when we were certain, there was
nothing good
left for us, in our callous fate
a Time
we look back-on, wondering
if we'd given-in
and surrendered, chosen
that easy way out, understandably
how much, we would have missed
out, on
accumulating, those small victories
in our ephemeral, life
we now, so adamantly treasure...
(stay strong, dear Poet
as Dylan, so wisley urged:
'Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.')
Thank you for this
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.