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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I was upset when I wrote this, as you probably can tell....



I’m tired of fighting.

I just want to hide.

I don’t care anymore.

I don’t want to care anymore.

So why do I still care?

I’m tired of living.

I’m tired of dying.

I died a little

With every step

They took toward the door.

Every lie they told killed me in the end.

There’s plenty more to come, too:

Deaths, that is.

I’m tired of losing.

I lose every time.

If I play myself, I do not win.

When I play another,

They have the victory

Before the game even begins.

I’m tired of building

The walls that always seem to fall.

They crumble to the ground and

Are washed away by tears.

I’m tired of crying.

I cry rivers throughout the day.

I cry rivers throughout the night.

I’m tired of the lies.

They say it will be okay.

They obviously don’t know me.

They really don’t care.

They’ve never been there

When I’ve called.

I’m tired of letting go.

I’m tired of trying to hold on.

I’m tired of hurting.

I hurt all the time.

My body’s weak and weary.

My spirit’s nearly broken.

My sanity’s not quite gone, but

It’s definitely going.

Down this path I crawl,

Since I can’t walk anymore.

I fade into the distance,

Away from the sun

That burns my soul and

Blinds my heart, but

I’m tired of the dark.


Submitted: April 18, 2012

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