A Teacup Full of Stories

Hi there! Please enjoy this evening’s little poem.

I am weary of nothings;

Of aching hearts and tired eyes

And the dictation of lacks, ordering

Meaningless moments into the sheer,

Fragile,

Transparent illusion of purpose

And understanding; I am tired

Of questions without answers, of

The ache in my head

And my heart and my lungs, as

I stretch out in-between each breath

For something that cannot be found;

And my eyelids are always

Heavy, drooping at the end

Of truncated days, shortened

By an undefined expectancy that

Tomorrow will be better than today;

Impotent lies, hollow

Promise;

Tomorrow

Is always the same.