The kind of tired that keeps people up till morning.
That kind of tired.
My heart sinks, skips beats, then pounds.
Its lethargy has me questioning,
All that set it on fire.
Passion? That drive that keeps storming.
That hurricane, that I apparently found.
My eyes burn.
Overflowing tributaries, into oceans.
It’s too late for me tonight.
I’m half convinced I’ll be just another her.
Another one to spurn.
Not worthy of any devotion.
The veins on my temples pulse.
Headache, upon headache.
Mistake, upon mistake.
I procrastinate and hesitate.
There are too many words to say!
It’s mixed and muddled.
A mess. An utter mess.
I want to SCREAM.
I want to be sublime.
There’s too much on my mind.
….What if I’m not good enough?