I am done
The syllables were stones I had to break,
To build a language from a fractured chest.
Each jagged breath, a gamble I would take,
To earn the right to put my voice to rest.
I measured out the world in heavy miles,
Relearning how to stand upon the bone,
Through shifting sands and suffocating trials,
To claim the barren threshold of a home.
But tides have turned to iron in the night,
The landscape rises up to block the door.
I have exhausted all my store of fight,
And left my armor rusting on the floor.
The static screams, the silence grows too wide,
I’ve spent my life to make a single sound.
But now I let the aching currents slide;
My dignity is all that I have found.
Let echoes fade and let the struggle cease,
I lay the burden down upon the shore.
There is no victory, only hollow peace—
I do not care to be heard anymore.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: July 16th, 2026 14:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments2
I hear exhaustion in this write where good rhyme reinforces the feeling of having spent all one's energy and reserves to get to where one is and one is simply spent. Very well written.
We reach a point, where we just get too tired to care anymore. In so many ways I relate to this poem. Great write. Thank you for sharing.
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