Tired of Being Me

Tired of being me


Illusion, and


I am here.

Yet I am there.

I am no where.

Nothing to see.

Nothing to be.

Tired of being me.

So here I sit.

Beer in hand.

Nothing left.

My will is gone.

Sip, sip, sip.

Fuleing the machine.

Another beer.

Another day.

Is this all,

All that is me?

Why do I care?

Why do I breath.

So sick and tired.

Tired of being me.


View prophecy's Full Portfolio