My eyes are so heavy
they feel they must close
but I have a goal yet to accomplish
and abandonment of it is not what I chose.
Hours away from the deadline,
my heart and words are fading.
My will is dwindling, as is time,
the ever-elusive pressure, unchanging.
Ideas appear in a head so clouded
with fatigue, my thoughts' worst enemy.
I'm begging for a psyche able to fight back,
but discover that psyche is no friend to me.
With words designed to encourage
pouring into my head as quickly as they can,
none of them are taking or being absorbed
in any fashion that aid me in my plan.
My drive is being worn down
as I no longer have the energy to continue.
What was once so important to me to finish
is now but another task that, tomorrow, I can do.
No longer is that ambition a priority
as I can spare no more sleep over this goal.
Instead I will let the frustration conquer
despite leaving, within me, this gaping hole.
No comments:
Post a Comment