I’m tired.
heavy lucid eyes yearn to close
chest pains refusing to subside
thunder and lightening strike inward pathways,
reaching out for sleep, to rest my anxieties
holding on to the world that is awake
gazing past the moment that ignites my dying soul,
forget serenity, tranquility and happiness
twisted and tumbled into a rusty hole with no end
slowly entertaining dark fires of my mind
I’m tired…
I’m tired…
By B. L. Crisp
Okay now your poem is making me sleepy too! Off to warm up coffee and get outside to plant my annuals!
Fabulous!
Haha! I hope you enjoyed doing your annuals…
I am still working on them….. yawn…..coffee I need coffee…..
Ha… good luck!