Tired

There’s a heaviness
That comes with living

The kind that sits on your chest
And in your bones
Dark icicles hanging
From the fabric of your being
Pulling at your skin
Wrinkles gouging out the
Worries and stress
Of every day

The sensation of having
Nearly every possibility
And yet
Knowing how to achieve none

The future is hidden
In fog and curtains
Hanging from every
Decision tree
A mind can dream

I am so tired
From the icicles
And the fog
And the curtains

I wish for everything to finally be
Clear
But know that this will make everything
Boring
So instead I am just
Tired