Waking Up

Wolf

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?

 

 

 

 

  • Author: Wolf (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 8th, 2023 03:04
  • Comment from author about the poem: Tired day by day. Wanting to just give in and call it a day.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 5
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments2

  • 2781

    There's an oxymoron in there.

  • L. B. Mek

    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.')

    • Wolf

      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.