The Weight
Can I be quiet?
Can I watch and just observe?
Can I just be
and not spend every second of my day proving that I am worthy of being heard?
That my input to a converation is valid without ratteling the list of accomplishments I've racked up in order turn a head
and spark interest
I swear I'm clever
I promise I'm bright,
But the wieght of exahustion I feel, its pushing on my chest so hard
it has no choice
but to distribute the pressure to the rest of my body.
It has become so heavy
its seeping into the essense of me
to the point where I can't be bothered to be
This poem is about:
Me