Life is filled with too much,
Too many predicaments,
Inundating my purpose with fog,
The clarity of life.
Aching, straining, throbbing,
Beating in sync with the almost defeated me,
Bent, but not broken,
The inability to do something,
To feel the compunction of not being able
To execute a plan
according to my will.
Where did I go wrong?
Is my effort not enough?
Am I not capable?
What is the purpose?
To get more stress?
Or is it just the way life goes?
An inevitable hardship, privation.
Something preeminent, imminent, and eminent.
Spelling mental, physical, irrevocable peril,
If and only if you submit, succumb, lose yourself to it.
I could do more.
But I could not.
My phone, my will,
My faltering grit, determination, fortitude,
Casting a falsehood of satisfaction,
By procrastinating, doing nothing, swallowed by emptiness.
I need sleep.
My mind does not want to.
My body desperately needs, a lot.
The incessant battle between those two,
Only can be broken apart by a heart of steel,
A true grit to cotton out,
What is good, and
What is bad,
The semantics of life.
My body shrilled for sleep,
My mind wanders
Into the long arms of temptation,
Wasting my time,
Not doing anything,
Engulfed in nothingness.
I am tired.
I need sleep.
It is not the devil nor temptations,
It is me,
The foolishness in me,
The lack of wisdom in me,
I need to sleep,
I must sleep,
Convalescence must be done,
To repair, restore, and recover,
My defeated glory,
My impaired thinking,
My broken life.
“Why do you go to school?”
I have no answer for that, anymore.
“What do you want to do in life?”
“Then, why do you go to school?”
“Why not just stay at home and make formula out of thin air?”
My stress has reached
Which made even the most loved thing in my life,
Into such an insignificant cremains of the distant past.