Tired — A Poem

I’m tired.

I’m tired of work

I’m tired of responsibilities

I’m tired of life

I’m tired of being tired.

Each day I look towards the light at the end of the tunnel,

But why does it seem to be getting further and further away from me?

We are always searching for rest.

We sit, we lay, we rest.

Will we ever be content with our rest?

Or will we be too caught up in trying to rest, that we lose to the rest of them?

• poem
• rest
• sleep
• tired