My Weary Soul
Here I lie in the dark, exhausted, yet sleep escapes me.
A myriad of conversations and thoughts flash in my mind.
Uneasy, as a tigress pacing in her cage.
Unbridled energy, with no escape.
A thought constantly ticking in the back of my mind…
Make it stop!
The worry, the ache, like thousands of electric splinters,
that fill the air and suffocate me.
The demand wells up from within again,
you must strive, meet, overcome.
Prove to everyone you are as idyllic as everyone perceives you to be…
Or, so you think.
Branded for life by the word “overachiever”,
But striver of what?
A solution to quench the ache of a thousand past lives?
Something to dull the inner roar?
Or perhaps, a small, quiet corner where no light dares to go…
Where the real you is unafraid.
A true utopia, or at least a resemblance of one.
Some beautiful meadow of soft, sweet grass,
A place of peace with nothing to achieve.
The time when the noise stops so that I may rest my weary head,