Fri, 03/09/2018 - 23:17 -- puffin

How is this supposed to feel?
After so many days of stress,
Rest hardly feels real.
It's something I can't assess.

I feel like a sphere.
Each task causes me to compress,
And makes me feel like less.
So small I may disappear.

I'll be a point.
I'll reside in one dimension.
I'll be an arbitrary item of retention
To which no freedoms can a deity anoint.

Yet when the pressure is released,
I cannot expand again.
I experience peace,
But I'm expectant, like a capless pen.

I can't relax,
I can't let my hair down.
In only a week I'll be back,
And dreaming about leaving this town.

This poem is about: 



This poem I can relate to. Surprising to see that it's not just me.


I'm glad -- not that you're stressed to the point of being unable to process relaxation, but that we're not alone in this phenomenon. :)

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