What is this feeling I feel inside?
Am I getting sick? This I cannot abide.
Tired. Don’t won’t too. Drained.
I make myself use my brain.
Am I fighting a loosing battle?
It feels like with a burden, I’ve been saddled.
As I sit here staring at this computer screen,
thinking about home. Would it be mean,
if I clocked out and left?
This weight upon my shoulders, I cannot heft.
Help me Lord! This I cannot fight.
Try as I might.
So many angles. So many darts.
Being flung in every direction toward my parts.
Shoulders, head, back and neck.
My desire to be here is but a peck.
Do I have to give all these feelings inside me a label?
Do I have to put all my cards on the table?
Tired. Tired of the fight.
Tired of the plight.
Tired of the struggle.
So tired of trying to muzzle,
capture and pin down;
silence – without a sound.
Help me Lord, I cannot stand.
I need your guiding hand.
What are these feelings I feel inside?
Will they ever subside?
Poetry & More 