A day’s work feels like five.
I am so tired, yet still alive.
Struggling to think,
My glasses aren’t pink,
Longing for distance, longing for peace.
Morning will seem fresh,
Then some old, some rehash,
Till evening the mill will work,
Kindness will seem like a perk,
Longing for joy, longing for release.
Just a normal day – such a pity.
Should be more than the nitty-gritty.
Maybe I am not looking right,
Might be I have issues with my sight,
Longing for peace, longing for release.
This is just me blowing off some tired steam and frustration. No literary value added tax, don’t worry;)