Exhausted shifts

Bags under my eyes.

Tired, so I look to the sky.

I turn into the sun

And fall into the gloomy, grey clouds.

Water starts to pour

But I do not know if that is from me.

I try to get up

But the clouds begin to consume me.

I wait until the end.

Wind blows past, leaving only me.

I send out fake rainbows

And keep shining.

Tired.

Waiting to drift back asleep.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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